


Walkin' the Tightrope

by non_tiembo_mala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sam, Case Fic, Dirty Talk, Domestic Winchesters (Supernatural), Established Relationship, Impala Sex, M/M, POV Dean, POV Outsider, POV Sam, Retired Hunter Winchesters (Supernatural), Schmoop, Top Dean, Wincest - Freeform, show-level violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 14:07:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14916785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/non_tiembo_mala/pseuds/non_tiembo_mala
Summary: It’s 2036, and twenty years since Sam and Dean called it quits on hunting to take up a secluded, quiet life. Maybe Jesse and Cesar gave them the idea, but after Amara, they realized they’d done enough. And they wanted a proper life together even more.Known as Sam Wesson and Dean Smith to the residents of the nearby town they call home, Sam and Dean keep mostly to themselves, their immaculately kept ‘67 Chevy Impala, and their cabin in the woods. That is, until someone from their past tracks them down, desperate for help.Sam and Dean can’t say no, not when it’s their dear friend Jody Mills in deep trouble – she’s missing – but the wedding bands they wear make going back to their old life just that little bit more complicated…





	Walkin' the Tightrope

**Author's Note:**

> Oh gosh, where do I even begin? Okay, well, this fic is entirely Jensen's fault (maybe not _entirely_ but pretty damn close). At BurCon16 [he's the one that said](https://twitter.com/dreamerkel/status/798173226916544512) he wanted Sam and Dean to live in a cabin in the woods until twenty years later someone comes asking for help to solve a case. (I call it: The Reverse Curtain Fic! heh) As soon as he said it, I knew I wanted to write it. I started right away but once I got looking at it, it seemed daunting (case fic, AH!) and then it sat on the back burner as my "maybe someday if I manage to ever do a big bang" fic. Now here we are! 
> 
> I have the most amazing friends and supportive cheerleaders anyone could ask for. Manda, Jen, Anna -- thanks for all the love and encouragement.
> 
> Jen, thank you for the beta. 
> 
> This was my first big bang and I am so fuckin' lucky. I was chosen by the amazing and talented [stargazingchola (LJ)](https://stargazingchola.livejournal.com) / [winchesterchola (tumblr)](http://winchesterchola.tumblr.com/). Her art is bright and vibrant and beautiful and I'm honoured to put it alongside my story. Please, hit her up on her posts on [LJ](https://stargazingchola.livejournal.com/8992.html%22) or [ tumblr](http://winchesterchola.tumblr.com/tagged/walkin-the-tightrope%22) and leave her so much love!
> 
> Title from Stevie Ray Vaughan's _Tightrope_.

Ally isn’t sure what she expected but somehow she’s still surprised. The dirt laneway seemed to stretch on for so long off the main road that she was beginning to wonder if she was mistaken after all, but then she came around one final bend and here it is.

The dense tree coverage lining the sort-of road finally broke and revealed a quasi clearing, in the centre of which is a homey, well-kept log cabin. The wood is recently stained, the roof free of debris, the shingles new. The front veranda is set up with two comfortable looking Adirondack chairs and a small coffee table. The chairs are easily the most obviously worn element of the picturesque scene, like they’ve both been sat in many a long time. The windows glow bright amber in the early twilight, a fire the obvious source of the warm illumination, and smoke rises steadily from the stone chimney alongside the house.

Ally eases her motorcycle off the road and onto the grass, taking off her helmet to set it on the seat. She tucks strands of her blonde hair that came loose from her braid back behind her ears and she continues to take in the cozy sight before her. There’s a small stream that runs through the property not fifteen feet from the home and a pile of firewood stacked fastidiously against the wall around the corner. The dirt road seems to circle the house and as Ally leans a little she finally spies it: shiny even in the ever-dimming light, still like-new, is the jet black 1967 Chevrolet Impala that confirms she absolutely must be in the right place. Her heart flutters excitedly in her chest. It’s the first time she’s felt real hope in weeks.

As she takes her first steps towards the cabin, that hope gives way to a wave of nervousness that sweeps through her. She clenches her fists and tries not to shake, grabs at the straps of her backpack to anxiously readjust it on her shoulders.

Her mom and Aunt Jody have always been so tight-lipped about the Winchesters, the men who got them into hunting – who more than once saved their lives. Whenever Alex or Claire bring them up, mom and Jody always look fond – always share these silent, weighted glances that Ally can’t quite interpret – before they find ways to change the subject. Most of what Ally knows she’s managed to weasel out of Claire, if only because Claire always seems even more keen to tell stories while Aunt Jody is a glass or two into a bottle of wine and giving her that look from across the table, the one that is clearly a warning even though Ally can tell Jody does love to hear about them – just like her mom does – despite that the topic is usually off-limits.

They’d all be furious if they knew Ally had gone after them – Claire included – but…

Enough is enough. Ally is as determined now as she was when she first set out, even though looking at the quiet, well-preserved home in front of her she is a little at a loss what to do next, what exactly she’s supposed to say.

In every story – all the snippets she’s managed to collect over the years – the Winchesters have been heroes. They were also smart, capable, deadly, and – as far as Ally can tell – stubborn as all hell. Not to mention, despite her enthusiasm to indulge Ally’s curiosity, even Claire won’t talk about why they don’t come around anymore, what made them essentially disappear near on twenty years ago now. But with everything that’s happened – everything that is happening – Ally has to believe they’ll still help. They have to. They’re her only hope.

\---

The smell of bacon permeates his dreams and Dean groans as he wakes, rolling into the empty space next to him on the memory foam mattress that usually cradles his little brother. As he comes to, he can smell coffee as well, and he hears the bacon sizzling amongst all the familiar shuffling and clanging of his brother putting together breakfast in their kitchen. Sam doesn’t get up early to run _every_ day anymore, but Dean still misses waking up wrapped around him when he does, despite his brother’s tendency to make them a big, hot breakfast afterwards.

Dean doesn’t linger in bed for much longer. If Sam’s not in it with him, there’s not much point. He rolls back to his side and swings his legs over the edge, flexing his toes as they search blindly for his slippers and grunting at the angry pop of his bad knee. He gives himself a moment to rub at the edges of the sore disk and wonders not for the first time how much longer he can put off giving in to Sam’s insistence that he see someone about it. They’re so well settled and life is so calm compared to the one they led in their youth, but the thought of being laid up for weeks after some routine old-man surgery – which he’s loathe to even think on – still makes Dean incredibly wary. Somehow, even though they’ve been safe and sound for the better part of twenty years, ever since Amara took Chuck and disappeared, it still feels like willingly giving up his ability to take care of Sam in a way that has never ceased to unsettle him.

His stomach rumbles enthusiastically as he stands, gritting his teeth against the inevitable discomfort in that leg, and he stretches as he makes his way to the bathroom, pulling on the worn, dark grey robe that was one of the few things they took with them from the Bunker. Catching his groggy, pre-coffee countenance in the mirror, Dean hates to admit this, too, but the grey of the robe matches his hair now in a way he thought he’d escaped, considering it was Sam who had started to go grey first. Dean’s still short hair and well-trimmed beard are more dark grey than anything else now – have been for the last few years – and as much as it makes it hard to deny that they’re ageing, Sam insists it makes him look wise and distinguished. Dean doesn’t buy it, figures Sam says it just to make him snort back a laugh and thwack him on the ass affectionately as he’s like to do.

Sam, of course, has aged gracefully despite his early onset silver – not that Dean is surprised. Sam has always been beautiful. The furrows in his brow are a little deeper, as are the divots in his cheeks from his dimples, and his hair has lightened considerably to a gradient silver that he still wears long like always, constantly tucking back behind his ears and curling at the nape of his neck or pulled back and tied in a messy knot. He did the beard thing for a while, too, but lately he’s back to being clean shaven, somehow still looking remarkably baby-faced that way despite his paling, argent locks.

It doesn’t matter that Dean has spent more time in the last fifty-three years looking at his brother than he has looked anywhere else; he’s still the most welcome, heartwarming sight Dean knows. Coming into their kitchen, he ties the belt of the robe low on his hips and leans on the timber support beam, quietly watching where Sam stands facing away from him at the stove, working the spatula through the scrambled eggs. Sam is wearing long sweat pants and a thin navy t-shirt, his hair damp at the ends from his recent shower. He looks soft, so tempting, and they haven’t had reason to resist each other for more years than they’d ever had to hide. Dean comes up behind him, threading his arms around Sam’s still slim waist and rests his chin between his shoulder blades, tilting forward to kiss at the sliver of exposed skin between the collar of his shirt and his hair.

“Morning, Sammy,” Dean mumbles behind the kiss, voice sleep-rough.

“Morning,” Sam echoes, and Dean can hear him smiling. Sam’s arm folds over his and he weaves the fingers of their left hands together, their simple, matching gold bands clinking softly as they fall into place.

They stay like that for a long comfortable moment, swaying a little as Sam finishes up with the eggs. Dean is never in a hurry these days, endlessly greedy for all the easy touches and casual closeness of the life they’ve built together. Dean is practically dozing where he stands, eyes closed, lazy and letting Sam’s frame support some of his weight, when Sam gently shakes their hands where they’re clasped on his belly.

“Wanna get the table set? This is just about ready.”

“On it,” Dean places another quick kiss to the nape of Sam’s neck and takes his hand back as he steps away.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice is small and Dean turns back to find Sam twisted towards him, away from the stove and their breakfast. His little brother’s eyes are wide and bright, and Dean recognizes the request he sees there as clearly as anything Sam could ever say. He grins, a little smug, and steps forward, reaching for Sam’s face with one hand and pressing a firm, deliberate kiss to Sam’s lips, feeling them give and soften under his. Sam sighs when Dean finally steps back again, and there’s a pretty pink in his cheeks that makes Dean feel so fond like he only ever has for Sam.

Sam goes back to their food and Dean gets the table ready, pouring generous servings of coffee and adding milk and sugar to Sam’s just the way he likes it. Sam joins him at the table shortly after with two plates heaping with eggs, bacon, and toast, and they eat in companionable silence. Dean cleans up afterwards, washing the dishes by hand and placing them in a rack on the counter to dry, and just as he’s folding the tea towel over the oven handle to dry, Sam offers him a quick kiss, a refilled mug of coffee, his glasses and the book from off his night stand that he’s three-quarters of the way through.

Smiling, Dean follows him outside, watching as his brother tugs a hoodie on over his head while juggling his own book in one hand. They get outside and settle on the porch. It’s starting to get cool out, and Dean tightens the robe around him as he sits down. There won’t be too many more mornings where they’ll be able to do this, when instead they’ll curl up on the couch together inside by the fireplace. For now, though, there’s a tranquility in the crisp outdoors, the clear sky and sounds of nature all around them, so they enjoy it while they can.

Dean leaves his book on the table between them, his glasses folded on the cover, and sips languidly at his coffee, letting his eyes wander their yard, the trees beyond it, and the little stream. He peeks at Sam, too, because he can, watching as his brother gets engrossed in yet another true crime, his hair spilling forward from behind his ears like it always does and his teeth working absentmindedly into his bottom lip.

After a while Sam glances up at him from over his book, quickly taking stock of Dean’s finished coffee and as of yet untouched book. He smirks knowingly and lets his eyes return to what he was reading.

“We’re out of bacon, you know,” he says. It would seem out of the blue since they’ve been sitting in silence together so long but Dean knows how well Sam can read him, sees that he’s a little antsy, a little restless this morning. He’s giving him an excuse to go into town and stretch his legs. Dean can’t contain his grin.

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we,” Dean answers predictably. “Guess I better go run some errands then.”

Sam looks over at him and holds his gaze, matches his grin. “I left a list of things on the fridge.”

Dean huffs a laugh. “Of course you did.”

He leans across their little table to kiss his brother before standing up and disappearing into the house to get properly dressed.

Buena Vista has been good to them. Initially, they had wanted to be as much removed as possible, but that proved to be overly inconvenient. It’s not a big or bustling town by any means, and since Sam and Dean still live nearly three quarters of an hour out into the woods, they’re not exactly there every day, but with only the one grocer they were bound to be recognized eventually. The townspeople know them as Dean Smith and Sam Wesson, and certain assumptions were made about them very early on that neither of them cared to deny. It was such a beautiful novelty, letting people come to their own conclusions and not having to correct them, that Dean had really already been thinking about it himself when Sam beat him to it and brought up the idea of rings not long after they settled. He still wishes he’d just gone ahead and done it instead of worrying over it so much, wishes he could have surprised Sam the way he deserved to be because _of course_ his little brother would have been all for it, but it had all worked out in the end, anyway.

When Dean rolls into town, he grabs all the groceries Sam asked for and then some at the City Market, tossing the cold items in their beaten up, ancient Coleman cooler for the drive home and then swings by the bakery for some fresh pie – apple because he knows Sam will eat that, too. He stops at the café and roastery to pick up a couple pounds of the coffee beans they both like so much. While he’s there, Claudia behind the counter asks him to pass by her place, see if he can’t lend a hand to her husband Mitch who’s been losing his mind trying to fix the engine in his truck. Dean owes her a favour anyway and they’re good people, so Dean is happy to oblige. She adds a box of the imported Dragonwell tea that she knows Sam likes into the bag with all their coffee and when Dean tries to tell her she really doesn’t have to do that she only winks at him and sends him on his way.

Helping Mitch doesn’t take very long at all but they get to chatting and it’s well after lunch by the time Dean finally heads out of Buena Vista with everything he and Sam need to get them comfortably through the next couple weeks, including a crate of award-winning whiskey from the local distillery that has become Dean’s favourite nightcap. On the way home he’s thinking about what he’s going to cook Sam for dinner, what movie they might watch afterwards, if they even get that far. This new stash of whiskey needs breaking into and, not that they have any problem in that department, once they get into it it’s never long before they _get into it._ Dean’s mind wanders as he drives, sighing as he pictures Sam all laid out for him on their bed. The windows are cracked and the breeze is refreshing, the Allman Brothers greatest hits are playing from the dash, and it’s all these moments, these little things, that Dean marvels at – this peaceful, if somewhat reclusive, life they’ve built for themselves that they never dreamed they could.

It’s mid-afternoon when Dean throws the Impala into park and walks around to the trunk to start unpacking the spoils of his adventure to town. He’s a little surprised when he makes it to the door with the cooler and as many armfuls of grocery bags as he can manage – more than Sam would’ve let him carry, had he made it out in time to chide him – and Sam still hasn’t emerged to help bring stuff in, which he would usually do. He curses under his breath as he fumbles with the door and when he finally gets inside – miraculously without dropping or breaking anything – he sets everything down and stands up fully with his hands pressing into his lower back a moment before setting to putting the cold stuff away in their fridge. It’s only when the green cooler is empty and Dean is about to head back out for the rest of the stuff that he pauses and frowns because Sam still hasn’t emerged.

“Sammy?” Dean calls out and, even though they’ve never had any trouble here and it’s been two decades since, there’s a seed of panic low in his gut that he doubts will ever go away where Sam is concerned. There’s a brief silence during which the seed threatens to grow into something big and ugly, when Sam finally answers him.

“ _Dean_ …” his baby brother’s voice sounds wrecked and Dean’s name is a plea. Dean is moving immediately, rushing to their room, his whole body pulsing and alive with adrenaline. His gun is in his nightstand and he can’t believe after all this time he isn’t still carrying it in the back waistband of his jeans. He throws open the door and–

“Jesus Christ, _Sam_ …” he freezes in the doorway, all the air and fight just _whooshing_ out of him in time with the flood of most of his blood supply to his dick, leaving him stunned and lightheaded.

His brother is spread out in the middle of their bed, comforter kicked to the floor and the sheets a tangled mess underneath him. He’s naked, his chest, neck and face flushed, and his hair is mussed and stuck in sweaty strands to his forehead like he’s been thrashing around. He’s got one arm hooked under his knee, pulling back one long, folded leg, and the other hand– _fuck_. The four fingers of his other hand are knuckle-deep inside him, his dick hard and angry red where it rests on his stomach. He’s shiny and slick everywhere, the still open bottle of lube within arm’s reach on his bedside table, and he groans as he shifts his hips while Dean watches.

“You were gone and–” Sam sucks in a breath as he digs in deeper “–I thought you’d be back sooner. Then I wasn’t sure and–”

“Sammy, _fuck_ –” Dean ditches his clothes faster than he has in ages, leaving them in a messy pile on the floor as he toes out of his boots. He goes for the bed as soon as he’s naked, except for his ring and the amulet around his neck. It hangs down as he gets his hands and knees on the mattress, stalking closer to his brother. “I’m– I’m here now, baby. Should’ve texted me. Woulda’ come runnin’.”

He touches the fingers of one hand to Sam’s stretched open hole, tracing the rim where it’s taut around his brother’s long fingers. Sam sighs as Dean teases him and slowly pulls his fingers out. Dean groans as he takes in the sight; for a brief moment, Sam’s hole stays open for him and Dean can see inside, the way the shiny pink ring gives way to such a darkness, and then it slowly draws closed, puckering back tight.

“Need you, Dean,” Sam sighs and reaches for him with his still slick, lube-covered fingers. Dean can’t help but moan as Sam takes him in hand and starts to pull at him, getting him slicked up, too. Sam’s fingers are strong and knowing; every touch of them is a little bit of heaven.

“You have me, Sammy,” Dean murmurs. “You always have me.”

He slides his fingers under Sam’s because he’s ready – they’re both ready – and Sam gets an arm under each leg then, folding and tucking them back at his sides to expose his hole for his big brother. Dean loves the way he looks like this – has always been a little jealous of how fucking bendy Sam is, even still at fifty-three – and he hurries to get the head of his dick lined up. He pushes in with barely any resistance; Sam has clearly been getting himself ready for a while, and the thought makes _want_ and possessiveness flare hot and low in Dean’s gut. They both moan as Dean bottoms out, and Dean watches his brother’s face the whole time because it’s too beautiful to miss. Sam’s eyes flutter closed and his mouth parts in this pretty _oh_ , the crinkles at his eyes getting deep, and the pink colour on his cheeks is Dean’s favourite shade.

“Fuck, Sammy, so pretty,” Dean whispers as he starts to circle his hips.

Sam laughs and it’s almost a giggle, which is ridiculous and so _Sam_ , stupidly endearing. He turns a little more pink, too, and when he opens his eyes they’re as big and bright as always. They look up at Dean the exact same way he did thirty-some years ago when they did this the first time, and not a single year that’s passed has dimmed the impossible fire that burns between them. Dean figures it’s got to be that damned soulmate business, because whatever society might say, nothing in Dean’s life has ever been purer than his love for his brother.

He settles in between the open vee of Sam’s legs, getting an elbow on either side of his brother’s head as he lies down, blanketing him with his body and trapping the amulet between them where it presses into both their chests. It aches a little but they’ve both always liked it, even moreso after those years Dean didn’t wear it, when Sam hadn’t known how to give it back and instead kept it safe and close until God’s proximity gave him away.

Dean takes Sam’s mouth in a passionate kiss, easing his tongue between his brother’s lips to better taste him. Sam wraps his arms around him and Dean finds an easy rhythm. It’s slow but steady and Sam’s body pulls at him, squeezes and urges him deeper. It’s hot and tight and home, and nothing has ever felt better. Sam’s kisses are equally intoxicating, though as the intensity of Dean’s thrusts grows with his need, they’re more both panting and gasping against each other’s mouths, licking and nipping at each other’s lips around broken moans.

Dean feels a tight heat coiling low in his belly and he maneuvers one arm down between them to get a hand on his little brother’s not-so-little cock.

“ _Hnngh_ , Dean, f-fuck,” Sam grunts out as Dean makes a fist around him and lets his arm fall into rhythm with his hips. Dean loves this part, this race to make Sam come first, so the overwhelming clutch of his brother’s body will be what pushes Dean over the edge.

“C’mon, little brother, give it up. Come on my cock, Sammy, that’s it,” Dean’s voice is husky and soft against Sam’s mouth and he can feel his brother steal some of his air when he sucks in a breath right before he comes.

Sam shudders and stutters out his brother’s name on a high, broken cry, spilling warm and wet between them, coating Dean’s hand. Dean feels every pulse as Sam convulses underneath him, the muscles around Dean’s dick contracting in time.

“Fuck, _Sam_ –” Dean grunts as he comes, filling Sam up and feeling his own mess gush around him as he keeps fucking into him, even as his rhythm breaks and slows. He stays buried deep inside his brother, just grinding in place as the last waves of his orgasm recede. He sighs happily and relaxes his grip on his brother’s softening cock, though he keeps his hand there. Sam hums and smiles lazily, running his fingertips up and down his brother’s back.

“If you’re going to welcome me home like this from now on, I’m going to have to go into town more often,” Dean teases and Sam rolls his eyes before kissing the smirk off Dean’s face.

“Can’t do that, Dean,” Sam says between kisses. “Get too lonely without you.”

Dean pulls back to look at his brother and Sam’s voice is playful but his eyes are earnest, revealing a truth that warms Dean’s heart.

“I’ll never go far, Sam,” Dean whispers, and he kisses Sam again. He’s soft enough now that he slips out of his brother’s body, no doubt taking some of his mess with him. Sam sighs sadly when he does, but Dean takes it as a sign that it's time to get up. Even his flexible, yoga-practicing brother needs to put his legs down eventually.

Once Dean is up, Sam stretches out, reaching for the end of the bed with his toes and arching his back up and off the bed like a cat. Dean reaches down with his clean hand to run a finger up the middle of his brother’s foot, and he snickers when Sam flinches and recoils from him because it tickles.

“Dammit, Dean,” Sam gasps and snaps, narrowing his eyes at his brother while Dean continues to laugh, giving Sam a look that epitomizes _sorry, not sorry_ while he shrugs and pads barefoot to their bathroom to get in the shower.

Sam joins him not two minutes later, sliding the glass door to their custom, built-for-two shower. After the amazing and spacious showers in the Bunker, something like this was always an eventuality wherever they were going to settle. Dean did it all himself, handled the plumbing with help from YouTube and laid all the tiles while Sam tried not to let on just how impressed he really was. It’s pretty magnificent, with plenty of room for both of them and two shower heads, and Dean is pretty damn proud of it, smiling to himself every time the two of them make use of it together.

Dean is just working the shampoo into his hair but Sam takes over, massaging his brother’s head until he’s practically purring and then lets him wash it out. They’re never in a rush anymore and they take their time with each other because they can, cleaning each other thoroughly and with long, tender touches. When they’re rinsed clean Sam wraps his arms around Dean from behind, their bodies flush from head to toe, and they spend a moment just standing under the hot water. Dean’s head is leaned back on his brother’s shoulder and his eyes are closed, just soaking in the warmth, and then Sam’s finger is suddenly jabbing him right between the ribs.

“Sam, Jesus!” Dean shrieks and flails, his elbow going back into Sam’s gut though Sam doesn’t seem to notice, just keeps on laughing, looking smug and pleased with his revenge. He reaches past Dean to shut off the water.

“Careful there, old man. Wouldn’t want you to slip and break a hip,” Sam winks and quickly exits the shower while Dean glares at him and then follows him out to get dressed and go about the rest of their day.

\---

Dean makes lamb for dinner. The shanks were at a good price at the Market and he knows Sam likes it so he can never resist. The whole cabin smells of warm mint and rosemary even after the table is clean, the dishes are done, and they’ve just settled down on the couch with a tumbler each of Dean’s new whiskey. The fire is going and Sam’s bare feet are in Dean’s lap. He rubs at them absentmindedly while Sam scrolls through Netflix, and Dean counts it as a win anytime his brother hums, sighs, or pauses a little too long in his browsing, pleased and distracted by the work of Dean’s hands.

They’ve only been sitting there a handful of minutes when they hear it, both of them going still to listen, looking at each other with wide eyes. It’s the unmistakable growl of a motorcycle and it’s getting louder, the only possibility that it’s approaching their home on their laneway. Only a few folks in town know where they live – they collect their mail from a PO Box – and they would all know better than to show up unannounced.

Dean pats Sam’s foot and tilts his chin up, gesturing towards their room. Sam nods in understanding as he swings his legs over the edge of the couch. They both get up, Dean going for the window while Sam goes to the bedroom to grab their guns. Dean watches through a tiny crack in the curtain as a rider wearing jeans, black leather boots and jacket to match – female, with a long, pale blonde braid sticking out the back of her helmet – pulls in around the bend, easing her Harley off their trail, and parks it on the grass. She takes off her helmet to place it on the bike, brushing loose strands of hair off her face, which Dean has never seen before but, oddly enough, it seems vaguely familiar. He squints, tries to get a good look at her, and Sam is at his side, pressing his gun into his other hand. She doesn’t look particularly threatening – barely looks old enough to drive that thing, as far as Dean’s concerned – but looks don’t mean shit if she’s possessed.

He withdraws from the window and signals for Sam to grab the demon blade from where it’s stashed in the kitchen drawer while Dean goes for the door, tucking his gun into the waist of his jeans at the small of his back. Sam returns, standing just to the inside of the door with the knife in one hand and his gun filled with silver bullets in the other, poised and ready. There’s a demon trap painted on the underside of the boards of the porch just outside the front door, so they’ll know if that’s what she is if she tries to come in and finds herself stuck.

Enough time passes that Dean is just about to consider giving up their position to go out and confront her when finally there are boot-clad footsteps on the porch. He and Sam exchange a final look as she knocks, confirming their readiness, and Dean opens the door.

The girl – and that’s exactly what she is, now that Dean sees her up close – can’t be more than nineteen, if that. She’s tall for a woman and slim, with a pretty face and soft features. She doesn’t appear to be armed and her hands are clasped in front of her, her fingers squeezing together anxiously. Her blonde hair is pulled back but messy from her ride, and as she stands in their doorway looking at Dean her mouth opens in surprise and she just blinks. Dean’s eyes narrow.

“Are you… Dean Winchester?” She finally asks, timidly. Dean only glares at her more intently. No one in these parts knows them by those names. He spares a glance to Sam, who is still hidden from her view, and Sam shrugs, weapons still at the ready.

“Who’s askin’?” Dean growls back, intentionally bordering on hostile. She startles at the sound of his voice, but then seems to find her resolve.

“My name is Ally Stover. I– I’m Donna Hanscum’s daughter and I need your help.”

\---

Dean’s eyes go wide and he suddenly understands why the girl looks so familiar. She’s taller than Donna but she looks just like her, and as Sam lowers his weapons, Dean steps aside to gesture for her to enter. He watches as she comes inside, relieved that whatever she is, she isn’t a demon, and as Dean closes the door behind her she turns and sees Sam.

“You! You must be Sam!” She exclaims, sounding almost excited, but then her eyes find the knife and his gun and she looks terrified. “Oh, god. I’m not– I’m not possessed, see?”

She pulls at a silver chain around her neck and holds up the pendant hanging off it – an anti-possession symbol identical to the ones tattooed on Sam and Dean’s chests. “I’m not, um, a monster either. You– you can test me, if you want! With silver! Or, whatever.”

Her hands are up in front of her defensively and Sam and Dean share a silent look. Dean nods and Sam slides the clip out of his gun, pops out one of the bullets, and tosses it to her. She catches it instinctively and doesn’t flinch. Sam looks back at Dean approvingly. Dean relents and nods again.

“Okay,” Sam begins. “Why don’t you take a seat so we can talk.”

He gestures to the table and she nods, smiling with clear relief, as they all make their way there.

“Hey, what’d you say your name was again, kid?” Dean asks.

“Ally Stover,” she repeats as they sit down.

“Wait,” Dean furrows his brow as he tries to remember. “Stover. Wasn’t that–”

“New Doug!” Sam chimes in happily with a little laugh, wearing a smile from ear to ear.

“You knew my Dad?” Ally perks up.

“I guess we did,” Dean admits, smiling to himself. He totally called it.

“He’s a good man. Good cop,” Sam says easily, because it’s true.

“Yeah,” Ally replies, suddenly looking sad. “He was.”

There’s a long pause while that sinks in.

“Ally, I’m so sorry,” Sam reaches across the table to touch her arm, but Dean’s eyes are on Sam’s face, his heart swelling because Sam’s got those gooey eyes of his on again. Dean has always loved that about his brother.

“What happened?” Dean asks, gently as he can manage.

“Vamp. About four years ago now.”

“A vampire?” Dean asks, incredulous.

“Was Doug… _hunting_?” Sam inquires.

Ally sighs. “Yeah, Dad said Mom and Aunt Jody tried to keep him out of it at first but it wasn’t something they could really keep from him long term, not when he and Mom were getting married.”

Sam and Dean hold each other’s gazes a long moment and Dean sighs. He gets up from the table and retrieves their whiskey from the living room, setting Sam’s glass down in front of him while Ally watches in silence, still wringing her hands anxiously in her lap. “Sorry, kid. No way you’re old enough for this.”

“Oh, I’m not,” she laughs nervously. “And I’m going to be in enough trouble as it when Mom finds out I came here.”

Dean is relieved to hear that as he sips his whiskey. So whatever’s going on, Donna is okay. He can read Sam’s relief on his face as well.

“Ally, we’ve got so many questions,” Sam says.

“Yeah. How did you even find us, anyway?” Dean grumbles over the rim of his glass, fixing her with a stern glare. “Your Mom obviously didn’t tell you, if she doesn’t know you’re here.”

Sam shoots a classic bitchface his way – _really, Dean? Is that the most important question right now?_ – but Dean just shrugs and continues to stare Ally down. She looks incredibly sheepish.

“I, um, went through Aunt Claire’s journal… she keeps a list of hunters. There’s a big ‘W’ next to Buena Vista, CO scribbled at the back. I’m pretty desperate, so… I packed my stuff, I drove like hell, and when I got to Buena Vista, I asked around at the only grocery store in town. The cashier sent me to the coffee shop to ask the owner, said she had a better idea where you’d be, and when I told her you were my uncles and there’d been a death in the family so I was tracking you down, she was happy to tell me where you lived.”

Ally half smiles, half winces as she finishes her story, looking back and forth between Sam and Dean’s faces. Dean looks adamantly unimpressed but when he looks over at his brother, Sam is giving him another look, a look that says it’s what they would have done, back in the day. Dean huffs, rolls his eyes and puts his glass down on the table none too gently, resting both his hands next to it. He realizes what he’s done the moment Ally’s eyes drop.

Her expression falters immediately when she spies the obvious gold band on the third finger of Dean’s left hand. Sam’s hands are on the table, too, and Dean watches as her eyes quickly flit to his and see the matching ring there. Her eyes go wide and she stutters a little.

“What?” Dean barks, because this is exactly the kind of crap he and Sam were trying to get away from when they walked away from everything and, more importantly, everyone they knew. He knows Sam didn’t notice what Ally saw because Dean’s gruff question startles him, and he looks back and forth between the two of them like he’s missed something.

“Um,” Ally starts, swallowing hard. “The lady at the coffee shop – she talked about you like… but then…” she trails off as her gaze lowers to Dean’s hand again. “I thought… aren’t you brothers?”

Dean stares her down unblinkingly, the line of his mouth set, jaw twitching. She looks terrified – good, Dean thinks – and out of the corner of his eye he can see all the colour drain out of Sam’s face as the realization and panic set in. Dean is having none of it. He promised Sam when they exchanged those rings that this was who they were, then, now, and always, and not even their old life coming crashing in uninvited is going to make him go back on that. They’ll deal with it as they must but there’ll be no more hiding – not this.

“Not exactly,” Dean finally says, reaching for Sam’s hand with his own. He can feel Sam’s uncertainty, the faint tremor in his fingers as Dean laces them together on the table. Sam can’t take his eyes off Dean, bites nervously at his lip, and Dean can see from the way the light catches in his brother’s glistening eyes that Dean has undoubtedly just committed some grand romantic gesture. He’d roll his eyes just because it’s what Sam would expect him to usually do, but Ally is watching them with a bright blush blooming on her cheeks and a silent oh forming on her mouth as she gets Dean’s meaning, so instead he just smiles at her defiantly and keeps holding Sam’s hand.

\---

Ally is– well, confused. She has to think for a moment, second guessing everything she’s ever heard, but no, Mom and Jody _definitely_ always said brothers. She doesn’t know what to say. She sits there and tries not to blatantly stare, but it’s not hard to see what Dean is saying. Of course, she believes it – straight from the horse’s mouth and all – but then the expression on Sam’s face… he’s so obviously in love with Dean, the man who is staring her down like a challenge, like he’s daring her to push it while he sits there squeezing Sam’s hand, their wedding bands together in that moment like they clearly are, too. So her mind races – were Mom and Jody lying? Claire and Alex, too? Did they just not know? Why– why wouldn’t they know? She knows it used to be a, a _thing_ to be gay, but that’s not really the case now, so it’s hard for Ally to fathom having to hide that. She’s never once felt the need to be anything but what she is, but in the prolonged moment of charged silence that fills the space between them, Ally tries to imagine what life would be like if she had to hide, to lie, to pretend to be something else. Suddenly she thinks she understands what could make two people walk away from everything – if it was the only way they could be together. Maybe her Mom and Jody had known after all?

Sam clears his throat and it hasn’t escaped Ally that while looking completely lovesick the man is having a tender moment that makes her feel even more like the intruder she is right now, not just in their well-established away-from-it-all life, but in something so much more private. Dean, however, looks unfazed, so Ally focuses on him, trying to give Sam a little space.

“Well, it doesn’t– I don’t–” she starts quietly, only because the conversation ball is clearly in her court though she’s not sure what to say. Her face is hot and she hates how young she feels. She made this whole trip on her own, without anyone’s help. She spent hours rehearsing what she was going to say, and so far she’s failed to recall any script she’d come up with. She found them, _dammit_ , all by herself, and she’s sure that counts for something – certainly they’d seemed surprised and maybe even impressed to hear how she’d come to be here, but she’s been disarmed at every turn.

They’re old – could practically be her grandfathers for chrissakes – but they’re still undeniably attractive. Dean is rugged with his beard and well styled dark grey hair, expressive, startlingly bright green eyes, and lush lips that ought to be in magazines, as far as Ally is concerned. And Sam – he’s quite the silver fox. His hair is soft and smooth, long and tucked behind his ears, the last, fading hints of colour clinging still in some places, and there’s a gentleness to his features, the curve of his lips, and a youthfulness in his dimples that surprises her. She’s incredibly intrigued by them both – all the more having learned that they’re not brothers after all but _husbands_ – but she’s here for a reason and she has to stay focused, make her case before she pisses Dean off and he chases her off the property or something, which he seems like he might be inclined to do.

Dean sighs and settles back in his chair, releasing Sam’s hand to reach for his whiskey. He downs what’s left in the glass in one go, hissing as it goes down, then turns his attention back to Ally.

“The brother thing,” he sounds tired. “It was our, uh, cover. It was– stuff was complicated. You don’t have to understand. Just, it is what it is.”

His voice is deep and rough but the quality is nice. Ally likes it. There have been so few men in her life, actually, apart from her father, and Dean sounds nothing like him. His voice is so wonderfully deep… she likes how it makes her feel, even if Dean himself is a little scary.

“It’s fine, really,” Ally says softly. She looks at Sam now, because even though it’s Dean leading this, Sam is the one who looks unsettled. “I’m really sorry if I… I didn’t mean to intrude on your life. I just… I don’t know what else to do, where else to turn. Mom is… well, it’s not good, and I can’t just sit around and watch any more. I’ve grown up hearing stories – so many stories about the Winchesters, all the times you helped before – and I just… I need your help now. P-please.”

Ally meant to hold it together better than this but her eyes have welled up by the time she stops speaking and she bites her lip hard to try and make it stop before it gets any worse.

“Hey, hey, Ally, it– it’s okay,” Sam reaches for her again, his giant hand easily covering both of hers where she’s squeezing them together on top of the table. “Just breathe, okay? Take it slow. Whatever it is you’re running from, you’re safe here – safe with us. So, why don’t you catch us up? Start at the beginning. Tell us what’s going on.”

Ally sniffles. Sam looks so sincere, and he’s so comforting that after everything that’s gone on, she’s inclined to throw herself into his arms and cry like she hasn’t let herself since this thing started. She has only just met them but she feels like she’s known them in part for her entire life, and Sam really does make her feel so safe.

She takes a deep breath and tries to steady herself. “Okay.”

Sam lets go of her hands and leans back, closer to Dean, and they both watch her expectantly, Dean spinning the empty whiskey tumbler between his fingers.

“It’s Aunt Jody. She– she’s missing,” Ally struggles to get the words out, her voice breaking, and she covers her face with her hands just as Sam and Dean exchange a worried, wide-eyed glance. She takes another long, shaky breath and fans her hands out as she pulls herself together. “We don’t even know if it’s something supernatural– she’s just– gone. She was working in Sioux Falls, just a standard missing person's case, some high school kid, and then one day she didn’t report in. Her house was empty, her cell phone was on the floor, crushed. Mom says there were clear signs of break in but it was clean and… someone must’ve got the drop on her, or– or…”

Ally sighs, takes a moment to find her composure again. She looks at the men sitting in front of her and they’re listening attentively, appearing concerned, and every time they look at each other, Ally can tell they’re speaking somehow. They don’t say anything, not with words, but every glance they share is so weighted and she can see the understanding there, though of what she has no idea. She just hopes their worry will translate to agreeing to help.

“It’s been two weeks. Mom is at her wit’s end – not sleeping, barely eating. Alex and Claire even came home. We’ve all been staying at Jody’s. Mom’s been trying to do her cop thing with Sioux Falls police and Alex and Claire are working all the other angles but they’ve come up dry. We don’t know what to do and supernatural or not, time is running out. I just… I can _feel_ it. Whatever’s going on, Jody can’t wait forever. And… Jody always said you two were the smartest, most capable hunters she ever knew. If anyone can find her… please. You gotta help us.”

\---

It’s a familiar feeling in the blood that picks up as Ally speaks. The threat of danger, someone they love on the line – it’s been a long time but it feels like barely a blink now. Dean wishes that he could, honestly, say he doesn’t miss it, but as Ally looks at them and begs for help, Dean feels alive.

He opens his mouth to answer her but Sam’s fingers are wound tightly with his own and he purses his lips, turning to his brother. This– they have to talk about it, right? What if Sam–

“Ally, I’m sorry we were so hard to find. Of course we’ll help,” Sam answers first, an alert, earnest look in his eyes that makes Dean momentarily ashamed to think he even for one second thought Sam could’ve changed– that he would ever hesitate to help.

Ally’s eyes go wide and she starts to say thank you but her emotions finally get the better of her. She starts to cry, hard, relieved, hopeful – Dean can only imagine. Sam catches his eye with a tilt of his head, and Dean can see his brother is wondering only now, after the fact, if they should’ve talked about it before agreeing. Dean just gives his head a little shake and Sam understands. As if they had any other choice to make.

“Ally,” Dean speaks over her sniffles as they die down, and Sam hands her a tissue. “I know it’s getting late and you’ve had a long trip, but I think time is really important for us now. Can you sleep in the car?”

Ally seems to perk up immediately at that, looking between Dean and Sam with bright eyes despite her wet, clumped together lashes. “We’re gonna– you want– me? In the Impala?”

Dean understands her excitement as she sputters about the car, and finds he likes Donna’s daughter more and more by the minute. He’s pleased on Baby’s behalf she’s as much a part of their legend as they are. He hears Sam huff a small laugh next to him.

“Yeah,” Ally says quickly, nodding. “I can sleep.”

“Alright then,” Dean says, pushing his chair back and standing. “You’ll just have to give a us a second to grab our things.”

Dean doesn’t realize how huge his grin must be until Sam, standing next to him, gives him a look that suggests maybe he should tone it down. He tries to check himself, clearing his throat before walking the few feet to the living room. He pushes the coffee table against the far couch and then Sam bends to roll up the rug that blankets the hardwood. Dean can hear when Ally stands up to see what they’re doing, which is revealing a trap door hidden beneath their carpet. Dean stands next to his brother as his long fingers grab the metal ring, but then Sam stops and stands up, brushing off his hands. Dean’s expression falls, suddenly afraid that Sam’s changed his mind after all.

“Go on, do the honours,” Sam says instead, a sly smile on his pink lips. “I know you want to.”

Dean is grinning again before he’s down on one knee, reaching for the latch and throwing the door open.

All the contents of the Impala’s false trunk and then some – favourites from the Bunker – are laid out clean and polished as the day he and Sam stored them down there, alongside two empty, well-worn army duffels just waiting to be filled.

“Whoa,” Dean hears Ally exclaim from behind him as he reaches for an angel blade, giving it a whirl just because he knows he still can, and there’s something reassuring in the long-forgotten weight of it.

“I thought you were retired,” she continues, a little teasing.

Dean glances back at her and tries not to look so damn delighted, but as his eyes pass over his brother’s face, he knows that might be a lost cause. He shrugs at her.

“Retired, not dead,” he replies with a chuckle, and he feels warm all over when Sam laughs with him, shaking his head as he crouches down and starts filling their bags.

\---

They’re a little over halfway there, just outside Hershey, Nebraska, when they pull over to get gas and take a break. As Sam pays for the gas inside the little convenience store, his eyes are on Dean where he leans against the car, looking around at the rundown station, one hand on the pump. It’s a scene like so many from their life before – it very well could be, so much unchanged, that is, except for them, so much older now. Baby’s older, too, not that she looks anything less than brand-shining-new. Sam smiles to himself as he gets a little lost in the memories, when Baby looked the same but he and Dean were young and she was their only home. The guy behind the counter holds out Sam’s change, shaking his hand to get Sam’s attention, and Sam mumbles a distracted thank you when he takes it, their current, complicated reality sinking back in as Sam makes his way back to the car.

“Dean,” Sam hisses, trying to whisper for Ally’s benefit while also getting Dean’s attention. Ally had fallen asleep quickly once they hit the road, and she’s still sleeping, sprawled across the Impala’s back seat.

Dean turns towards him slowly, and he raises one eyebrow in a vaguely unconcerned, completely unsurprised way.

Sam’s been anticipating this conversation since they left, keenly aware of Ally in the backseat behind them. He’s been a bundle of nerves wound too tightly to sleep, his knee jiggling restlessly and his fingers drumming on his thigh. He’s been trying not to get worked up, but he’s been watching Dean in the driver’s seat the whole way, unnaturally calm about everything, considering, and it’s only made Sam all the more certain he has to find out what the hell his brother was thinking. Now, with Ally asleep and Dean just replacing the pump, is the closest thing he’s had to an opportunity since this whole thing started.  
Sam returns Dean’s unconcerned expression with one of thinly veiled frustration.

“Yeah, Sam?” Dean prompts casually, and Sam huffs, turning his back on the car and edging close to his brother to speak quietly.

“We haven’t exactly talked about this. What are we– what is your plan? You told Ally that we–” Sam swallows thickly, subconsciously spinning his wedding band with his thumb and looking away from Dean’s calm gaze, trying to keep his voice down even though it’s starting to get away from him. “But Donna, and– and Jody. They _know_ , Dean. How are– _what were you thinking_ –”

“ _Sam_ ,” Dean says gently to interrupt the panicked rambling that Sam didn’t mean to start. Then he gets a hand on the side of his brother’s face and leans forward to kiss him easily. Sam wants to resist, feels like he’s being placated when this is _serious_ , when he knows anyone could see them, but he feels himself melt against his brother’s mouth and his shoulders sag as the tension bleeds out of him. When Dean lets him go, he tries to fix his brother with a serious glare, but Dean is still unphased.

“They don’t _know_ anything but what we’ve always told them. And I don’t have a plan, okay? But I don’t care, Sam. I stopped caring a long time ago. Donna – she knows who we are. If this changes that for her, if she doesn’t want our help? That’s her loss. And if we manage to track down Jody and she can’t stand to look at us anymore? Fine. But I promised you we weren’t hiding anymore. This is what you are to me,” he reaches for Sam’s left hand and gives it a gentle shake, his fingers pressing down on the ring. “We’re going back home when this is over anyway. Just you and me, Baby, and our cabin in the woods. So I don’t care. I just– don’t.”

Sam opens his mouth like he wants to say something but shuts it again just as quickly. He doesn’t know what he could possibly say back, if the bottom line is that Dean really just doesn’t care about the potential fallout. Sam’s chest is a little tight, the anxiety still clinging to him, but his heart swells with a different feeling altogether. Like at the table with Ally when Dean grabbed his hand, Sam feels overwhelmed. Of course he knew – of course he _knows_ – Dean loves him, even if they don’t say in so many words so often. They’ve built this lovely, quiet life together and Sam hasn’t worried in years that maybe he’s not enough for his big brother. But in the face of their old life and everything that could happen now– Dean’s response is so–

Sam swallows thickly and blinks quickly, his eyes glassy again, and he silently curses for being so transparent. He swears he used to be better at this, when they were on the road together, always wearing those other faces. He’s gotten rusty after all.

“Aw, Sam,” Dean says, hushed and low to make sure Ally doesn’t wake. Sam dares to glance up at his brother and it really doesn’t help. Dean should be laughing at him, ribbing him for being such a baby and falling apart like this, but instead his expression is soft and fond, forgiving, and Sam has to sniffle and turn away again just as quick.

“C’mere, you friggin’ Sasquatch,” Dean murmurs, and then his arm is around Sam’s shoulders, pulling him in close, and Sam lets him, his face falling into the crook of Dean’s neck like it belongs there. He breathes out a little wetly, laughs at Dean’s old nickname for him and at himself for being so damn mushy, and Dean’s fingers hold him firmly in place, giving him the moment.

“Sorry, Dean,” Sam whispers around one last sniffle when he’s finally composed.

“Nah, it’s alright,” Dean answers, and Sam can hear the smirk on his big brother’s face without even looking. “Not like I didn’t know you were such a softie. Nice to know I haven’t lost my charm after all these years.”

Sam barks out a laugh and when he leans back, Dean gives him a lewd, teasing wink, then gestures back to the car. “Lots of ground to cover. Better get back to it.”

Sam smiles, feeling calmer than he has since the moment they first heard Ally’s motorcycle coming down their laneway, and slides into his seat, the Impala dipping and groaning under the familiar weight of both brothers coming home.

\---

When they roll into Sioux Falls, Sam gets lost in all the memories of the place, of Jody and the girls, of Bobby, and the snippets of their childhood spent training and playing in Bobby’s scrapyard. So much of their history is woven in and out of this town, Sam thinks it’s fitting somehow they’d end up back here after all this time. Dean shifts in his seat, the creaking vinyl underneath him pulling Sam from his thoughts.

“Guess it’s mostly the same,” Dean rumbles quietly, referring to Sioux Falls, and Sam looks over at him.

“Just like us,” Sam adds. He doesn’t mean for it to sound like a question, but it does enough that Dean lifts their hands where they’re resting on his leg to his mouth, kissing Sam’s knuckles. Dean smiles at him and turns them onto Jody’s street.

“Hey, kid,” Deab tosses over his shoulder. “Rise and shine, Ally.”

There’s stretching and groaning from the back seat, and as she sits up, “where are– oh my god, I slept the whole way?!”

Dean laughs, and Sam smiles at the sound.

“I feel like you needed the rest,” Sam adds gently, thinking of what Ally’s been through lately and what she went through to find them.

“And there’s no lullaby like the Impala’s engine,” Dean says proudly, giving the dash a little love pat.

“I guess so,” Ally agrees, pulling her sweater straight on her shoulders and hugging her back pack to her chest.

Sam looks over his shoulder at her and recognizes the tight, reserved expression on her face – not that he thinks Donna could ever be much like John.

“You worried?” he asks. She nods.

“Yeah. She’s going to be so mad.”

“Maybe,” Dean starts before Sam has a chance. “But you’re home safe now, and you brought backup.”

“He’s right,” Sam agrees. “It’s going to be okay, Ally.”

Sam can see her numbly nod as they pull into Jody’s driveway, her old truck still parked inside the open garage. Dean puts the Impala into park, and Sam wonders how long until someone is standing in the doorway. The car’s engine has a loud, distinct rumble; she tends to bring people outside.

Sam is just stretching, standing tall and reaching for the morning sky when Ally closes her door to the Impala and the front door of the house opens like an echo. Donna stands in the frame, looking older but only in the tired lines of her face. She’s still blonde, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she sounds exactly how Sam remembers when she calls out for her daughter.

“Allison Marie Stover!” She sounds like she’s trying to come across as angry but even Sam and Dean can hear the way her voice cracks. She starts towards them and Ally takes off to meet her.

They look at one another knowingly as Donna nearly crushes Ally in her embrace, and as they hug, Sam and Dean hang back, though Sam moves to take his usual place at Dean’s side. Sam wants to reach for Dean’s hand – he almost does, it’s such habit – but he makes fists at his sides instead, the anxiety creeping back in for the first time since Dean put it to rest at the gas station in the middle of the night.

Ally and Donna are talking now, quietly, just for them as Donna holds her daughter’s face in her hands, and Ally nods frantically before hugging her mother tightly again. When they finally break apart and Ally stands to her mother’s side, gesturing at Sam and Dean, Sam unwittingly takes another step closer to his brother. Donna looks up at them and smiles, large and welcoming, the same way she did twenty years ago.

“Sam,” she looks at him warmly, then turns to Dean. “Dean.”

Before she can take a step, Dean grabs Sam’s hand without even looking for it, as though he was aware of it – and indeed all of Sam – all the time, and Sam goes rigid.

“It’s good to see you, Donna,” Dean replies. Sam can hear his brother’s sincerity – it _is_ good to see her – but he is also aware of the challenge his brother is making with Sam’s hand in his. Dean is immovable, resolved the way Sam knows he can be, but in this moment for a thing Sam never would have dared to dream of, for _them_ , standing before their friends. His own heart pounds hard in his ears as he watches Donna’s eyes fall, and he wonders if his brother’s is doing the same despite his unshakable exterior.

Donna lifts her gaze, and as her lips purse to a close smile, her expression tells them everything they need to know.

“You two sure are a sight for these sore eyes,” she gushes, and comes at them, standing up on her toes to pull them down into a tight hug. Sam is momentarily stunned – did she really see? Does she really understand what Dean was telling her? How can she be so unconcerned? – but as she holds them, Sam can’t help but relax into it, letting his brother’s hand go to better hug her back.

“It really is good to see you,” Sam says as they pull back. He forgot what it was like to be in familiar company.

“Though, we are truly sorry about the circumstances,” Dean adds gravely, and Donna’s expression falls. She looks thoroughly worn out.

“Sam? Dean?” A familiar voice calls out, and Donna steps aside. Sam and Dean look up together as Claire and Alex nudge each other to get through the door at the same time.

“Holy shit, she really did it,” Claire looks impressed, glancing at Ally a moment before racing down the steps to hug Sam and Dean in turn, Alex only a step behind her.

The girls – _women_ , Sam mentally corrects himself – have aged well, looking so much like Sam remembers them. He suddenly wonders so much about them, what they’ve been doing all this time, if they have families, too, or if Ally is family enough. He’s so grateful they’re all still standing.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Alex says upon letting Dean go. “We never wanted to believe something bad had happened.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’re glad you’re not dead,” Claire interrupts dryly. “It’s about damn time you showed up.”

Sam’s stomach sinks. He was so caught up worrying about what their friends would think about them being together, he forgot to worry if they’d even still want to be their friends after all these years of silence, after they just… disappeared.

Dean is quiet and stone faced, which is telling. Sam drops his eyes, feeling the guilt rise up like it did when they first abandoned hunting, everything and everyone that was part of it, a hurt Dean had helped him heal with time, gold bands, and unashamed affection.

“Claire,” Donna cautions, and Alex shoots her adoptive sister a sharp glare.

“What? Someone had to say it. We’ve needed them. Jody’s been needing them, and they’ve been off… what? Living the quiet life while we work our asses off? Never thought you’d have had it in you to quit, Dean,” Claire pokes, and Sam can sense his brother’s discomfort, anger bubbling up in the hard set of his shoulders. “Well, you’re here now, whatever good that’ll do. Better late than never, I guess.”

“Claire, don’t be such a bitch,” Alex snaps at her as Claire turns on her heel and walks back into the house.

“Don’t you be minding her much,” Donna steps in, looking apologetic. “She still hasn’t figured out that some things are worth quitting for.”

“I am really glad to see you,” Alex gives them a genuine, albeit weary smile. “We need all the help we can get.”

Ally and Donna nod, and Sam’s heart aches for these women, this family. Sam remembers how it felt when their dad was missing, and they knew then that he was okay. Now, with Jody, they don’t know anything for sure.

“We’ll do everything we can,” Sam says thickly. “We want to bring her home.”

“You gotta catch us up, Donna,” Dean adds. “Tell us everything.”

“You betcha,” she answers in her usual way, still a hint of cheerfulness despite her missing best friend. God, Sam has missed her. “Let’s take this inside.”

\---

They get seated at the dining table, which is scattered with their case notes, each of them with a beer by the time Donna sits down to take them through it. Claire is within ear shot, curled up with a laptop on an armchair in the living room. Sam casts a glance in her direction, but Donna reaches for his hand where it’s wrapped around his drink and shakes her head.

“Don’t worry about Claire, Sam. She’s always been touchy. She’ll come around,” Donna reassures him. Sam nods, hoping she’s right while wondering if they don’t deserve this treatment. “What has Ally already told you?”

“Just lay it all out for us, Donna,” Dean leans forward on the table, moving his chair forward to mask how he also moves it closer to Sam. “From the top.”

“Well alrighty then,” she settles back into her chair. “Two Tuesdays ago, Jody’s telling me there’s this kid gone missing – Daniel Harrington, seventeen, bit of a loner. There’s no indication it’s anything supernatural, but Jody was such an irreplaceable part of the force up here, even though she’s a few years retired she still helps out once in a while, on the tough cases. The new sheriff, Lou Nolan, he’s a good guy, but Jody trained him. He knows how indispensible she can be, and missing kids are always so rough, you know.

“Anywho, they can use all the help tracking him down. Jody was basically lead on the case, and we got it here. Can only assume her disappearance has something to do with it. Last place he was seen as far as anyone knows was at this circus. Sheppard and Sons. More like a traveling freak show than a circus, I guess. Our missing kid would’ve fit right in, Jody thinks – says so in her notes. His parents were pretty clueless, but his friends – who’re odd balls, too, wouldn’t ya know – said he wanted to run away. Jody followed up with the circus director, who confirmed Daniel was there, but he swears he told him the circus was no place for a civie kid like him, told him to beat it, go home. His parents didn’t know he’d even gone out in the first place, and that’s the last confirmed sighting.

“Jody was telling me about it that night on the phone. Said the director didn’t set off any alarm bells for her, though the circus itself had a pretty freaky vibe. He was very cooperative, let her wander the grounds, and while the carnies weren’t too happy to have her poking around, no one was particularly shifty that she saw, and there was no sign of the Harrington kid.

“She was feeling discouraged, since the circus was her big lead, but I told her to sleep on it, ya know? Maybe she’d see something new in the morning. Well, next day, Lou says she didn’t turn up at the station. He called her but it just kept ringing. When he drove by her place, the front door was open. He let himself in, and she was gone.

“Claire and Alex get the call from Lou, ya know. Next of kin and all that. They called me, and I came running. The circus was gone by the time I got here. Lou’s doing what he can, but… we don’t have any leads outside Sheppard and Sons, but it’s a freakin’ mystery operation. It barely exists on the internet, except for what folks post about it on social media. It seems to never stay in one place more than a few days and we can’t figure out how we’re supposed to find out where it’ll be next. We’ve been lookin’ over this stuff for nearly two weeks and we’re getting nowhere. Been… losin’ hope, a little.”

Donna tries to smile but it’s forced, meant to help a brave face as she brings them up to speed. “We really need to catch a break.”

“And now you guys are here,” Alex says confidently, as though they’ll be enough. Sam can only hope, but it wavers when he hears a derisive snort from Claire in the living room.

“Well,” Dean sips his beer like he didn’t hear her. “We’re a fresh few eyes, to start. Let’s go through Jody’s notes and see what we can. Then we’ll go from there.”

\---

It’s hours later, the bottles of beer have been replaced with glasses of whiskey, and the girls have all gone to bed. As the sun set outside and the dark deepened, Dean, Sam, and Donna continued to comb through everything they had complied, and Dean enjoyed how easily it all came back, like they never left it. The only difference so far was him and Sam, and after Claire and Alex called it a night, Dean had slid his arm across Sam’s shoulders as though they were sitting at home, and he was pleased to note Donna didn’t even blink. It wasn’t like Dean was going to push it, but he had to be sure.

Sam eventually drifts off, his head on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean isn’t surprised, not after his little brother was so anxious he barely slept the whole way to Sioux Falls. Sam’s breathing changes to something softer as he sleeps, and Dean sits back in his chair, careful to bring Sam with him, and sips the last of his whiskey in the quiet. He looks at Donna over the rim of his glass, and the expression she wears as she takes in the sight of them makes him a little flustered. He hides his gaze in the quickly disappearing honey liquid in front of him, glad Donna doesn’t seem to mind them but suddenly at a loss with what to do with that.

He puts his glass down when it’s empty, and he makes himself look at her. It hasn’t escaped him that maybe they have some apologizing to do, he just… isn’t sure how to go about it. He clears his throat and decides to give it a go in the peaceful silence of Jody’s dining room.

“Donna, I– we… after everything we’d been through, we needed to just… be.”

It’s a shitty explanation and an even shittier apology, but Donna just keeps smiling.

“Dean, you know you don’t need to explain to me. You and Sam – you saved the world more than once, at great cost to yourselves. If you didn’t deserve a break, then I don’t know who does. And–” she nods at Dean’s left hand where it rests on Sam’s shoulder, his wedding band catching the light from the lone lamp above the table. “We always wondered, to be honest. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a love like yours and your brother’s.”

Even though she’s being kind – accepting – Dean goes stiff at the word in someone else’s mouth, his cheeks getting hot.

Donna seems to notice his discomfort. “It’s okay. Doesn’t have to make sense to the rest of the world, if it makes sense to you and Sam.”

Dean can’t think how he’s supposed to respond, what he’s supposed to say. Quiet stretches between them as words fail him, grateful and confused how anyone could be so gracious at their situation when it took them way, way too long to find that peace for themselves.

He can only nod dumbly, and Donna continues, seeming to understand him still. “How’s it been, anyway? Not hunting, I mean. And being– well, _together_ together.”

Dean sighs, letting it all go in the face of Donna’s persistent sincerity.

“Honestly? It was really weird at first. I mean, to be so alone. Sam and I always felt like we were alone before but calling it quits, choosing each other over everyone we knew, it made us realize how not alone we’d really been. We missed everybody – still do,” he nods at Donna, hopes she believes him. “But getting to live with him? Like this? Always knowing that he’s okay? That he’s safe because we’re not on the hunt for a hungry vamp or God’s fuckin’ sister? It’s been… amazing. More than I ever thought we deserved. It was worth everything.”

Donna beams at him, and it’s too much. Dean laughs a little nervously under her affection and looks away, distracts himself tucking a loose strand of hair behind his brother’s ear. “We never thought we could have both. This, and our friends.” Dean admits.

“I’m just glad you’re both safe and happy, Dean,” Donna says sincerely. “We thought maybe something had happened– that you’d both died saving all our lives, or worse, only one of you did, and the other did something stupid. This is much, much better news. Jody won’t care either. She’ll be really happy to see you,” Donna sobers up quickly, profound sadness in her usually bright eyes. “If we find her.”

“When we find her,” Dean corrects, certain for the both of them. “We will find her, Donna.”

It’s Donna’s turn to nod numbly, and Dean’s heart is heavy, but he can’t stifle the yawn that escapes. After all, he did drive them all the way there, so he’s at least as tired as Sam, who’s got a head start on him at the moment.

Donna gives him a smile before putting on a mom-face that Dean remembers receiving so often and fondly from Jody.

“Better hit the hay, mister,” Donna directs. “We’ll take up the search again in the morning. Do you– need help with–?” She gestures at Sam, his head lolling forward as Dean starts to sit up. Dean shakes his head at her kindly.

“It’s alright, Donna. I got him,” Dean says as he slips his hand under Sam’s arm and hauls him up, his brother starting to come to enough to take some of his own weight.

“I know you do,” Donna whispers back, a glimmer in her eye that makes Dean wonder if he was even meant to hear.

He mocks tipping his hat at her, then walks off towards the made up guest room as Sam sleepily rubs his face with one hand, the other clinging to his brother.

\---

Dean gets Sam spread out on the guest bed and turns away to get undressed. Sam makes groggy sounds as Dean sheds his flannel, and the springs of the old mattress creak a little as Sam sits up. When Dean turns to him Sam is rubbing his eyes, and despite the growing grey in his hair, Dean still sees the little kid he’s been tucking in his whole life.

“I… fell asleep,” Sam says slowly, blinking as he wakes enough to make sense of where they are.

“Yahtzee,” Dean chuckles, kicking off his boots as Sam clumsily does the same. When Dean is in just his t-shirt and underwear, he watches his brother shimmy out of his jeans, then takes them to put on the desk. Crawling into bed alongside Sam, he narrows his eyes; Sam is watching him and looks concerned, but before Dean can ask, Sam looks away, towards the door, and Dean understands.

“Sam–”

“One of us used to crash on the couch,” Sam points out.

Dean sighs, exasperated. “Do you want me to go sleep on the couch?”

“What? No– I– of course not,” Sam flusters. “I just… “

Sam trails off, dropping his eyes to his hands where they fidget with the edge of the blanket. “You’re really not worried?”

Dean sighs again, this time a little more sympathetically, and reaches for Sam’s hands. “Not really, Sam. I mean, yeah, it’s a little weird but… I’d rather be with you. And Donna…”

Dean shrugs and Sam’s eyebrows go up in question. “What about Donna, Dean? Did she say something? When I was sleeping?”

Dean grumbles a little, humming and hawing as he nods.

“What, Dean?” Sam demands, and Dean relents with another sigh, a smile starting to curl up the corners of his mouth even though he wants to be grumpy.

“She said…” Dean mumbles his way through the next part. “She’d never seen a love like ours before.”

When Dean dares to look Sam in the eye, his little brother is looking at him just the way he knew he would be, in that way that he does when Dean says something straight out of a goddamn chick flick – which he does much more than he cares to admit. Dean wishes he were more annoyed – it was easier when they were younger, dammit – but instead he has to dramatically roll his eyes and huff to keep from looking like just as big a sap.

To his surprise, Sam starts laughing.

“You know, I always said we were less subtle than we thought we were,” he beams, and Dean snorts. He laughs with Sam again for a moment before his expression shifts, and he knows his intentions are clear on his face because of how Sam’s laughter suddenly stops.

“What? Oh, no– what–” Sam shakes his head as Dean grins devilishly.

“Don’t have to be subtle anymore, do we, Sammy?” He starts to move, and though Sam tries to get his hands on Dean’s shoulders to stop him, he’s too slow – not trying that hard, honestly.

“Dean, no. There are still people– Ally is in the room next door!” Sam pushes but it’s weak at best, betraying his lack of real objection. Sam is trying not to laugh as Dean rolls him onto his back, pinning him to the bed with the weight of his body.

“Then I guess you’ll have to be quiet,” Dean purrs, dropping his voice to a whisper before leaning in to capture his brother’s mouth.

Sam sighs and melts into him, slipping his arms around Dean’s back, one hand twisting into the short hair at the nape of his neck. Dean chuckles to himself, triumphant, recognizing his brother’s submission, and he eases his tongue between Sam’s parted lips, deepening the kiss. Sam sucks on it and Dean groans softly, rolling his hips in time to the pull of Sam’s mouth. He grinds against his brother, their half-hard lengths rubbing together, and Sam bucks his hips into him, opening his mouth with a loud gasp at the friction.

“Dean…” he breathes, and Dean kisses him quick, chuckling as he nips at Sam’s ear.

“You gotta be quiet, Sam,” Dean cautions, and Sam tugs at his hair in response, arching his back for a better angle as Dean doesn’t let up with his hips, short, slow thrusts to keep the bed from creaking.

Sam is always so easy, and his brother’s panting and writhing beneath him lights a fire in Dean’s blood.

Dean is breathing heavily, too. He’s starting to sweat with the effort, and he reaches back to throw the blankets off them just as Sam lets out another broken moan. Dean scrambles to get a hand over his brother’s mouth, _want_ spiking hot and sharp across his body, and it takes more control than he thought he had not to start into a faster, more furious rhythm.

“Shh, Sammy,” Dean whispers roughly, and Sam digs his nails into Dean’s back. It’s been so long since they had to be quiet, and after spending their youth hiding, the memory of the danger is thrilling. Dean feels like he’s in his twenties again, and if the way Sam is keening and tugging at him is any indication, Sam is feeling the same.

Sam’s breathing is harsh through his nose, and Dean removes his hand, stilling, even though it pains him to stop moving.

“You gonna keep quiet…?” Dean teases, mostly serious, and Sam manages to look irritated with him even as he nods, twitching his hips under Dean’s for any friction he can get. Dean takes a slow breath to steady himself, leaning back down to Sam’s ear, dragging his teeth along the edge of it. “...or is it that you want us to get caught?”

Dean punctuates the question with a long drag of his hips, and Sam whimpers, turning to bury his face in Dean’s neck and stifle the sound. Fuck, his little brother always did like the risk. For all his boy scout ways, Sam Winchester is arguably more of an exhibitionist than his brother, though Dean has always been more than happy to indulge him.

Dean settles back into a rhythm, torturous for how controlled he has to be to keep the bed quiet underneath them. He can feel it building, molten heat pooling low in his belly, and if he can’t speed up his hips, he’ll just have to run his mouth.

Pressing his lips to the outside of Sam’s ear, Dean’s voice is rough and breathy, and Sam only clings to him all the more as he talks, the bow in his back pushing his chest against Dean’s as he cants his hips to better line them up.

“God, look at you, Sam,” Dean pants. “So fucking hungry for it. Just like when we were kids. You were always hot like this when Dad was in the next room.”

Sam whines at the back of his throat and bites at Dean’s neck. It feels good, knowing what he’s doing to Sam, and it only spurs him on.

“Never could keep quiet, could you, kid? No wonder everybody knew,” Dean is mindless now, wild with how close he is, how badly he wants to talk his brother over the edge. “Bet Dad knew, too. Bet he could hear you giving it up for me even then, begging me for more, getting pounded by your big brother–”

“ _Dean_ –” Sam sucks in a ragged breath and comes, shaking apart as he spills into his underwear, warm and wet between them.

“Yeah, that’s it, Sammy, come for me so good, _fuck_ –” Dean barely stifles the twisted groan that punches out of him as he comes, too, his rhythm stuttering as he pulses and jerks against Sam’s softening cock.

Sam is loose beneath him, sweaty and panting, and as Dean’s orgasm subsides, he can only gasp and roll to Sam’s side, letting them both breathe and get some air.

“Holy shit, Sam,” Dean finally gets out around a breathless laugh, and Sam groans, this time sounding a little embarrassed as he turns to hide his face against Dean’s shoulder.

“That was– fuck. Can’t believe how much that still turns you on after all this time,” Dean turns on his side, reaching for Sam’s head, tilting it so Sam has to look at him, flushed and fucked out and beautiful.

“Yeah, cause it didn’t do it for you either,” Sam says defensively, and Dean baulks.

“Hell yeah it did,” Dean happily admits, and Sam’s eyes go wide and his mouth forms a silent _oh_ as he realizes what Dean meant. His brother’s cheeks even seem to turn a deeper shade of red. “That was fuckin’ hot, little brother.”

Dean loves how Sam visibly responds to that, a pleasant ripple like a chill going through him as Sam smiles, pleased and a little smug, before turning away just enough to pull off his sweat-soaked t-shirt and underwear. Dean slips out of his as well, and they clean up with their shirts before tossing them on the floor.

“Been a while since we had to do that,” Dean muses as he pulls the blankets up to their stomachs, Sam curling up against him and winding their legs together. Sam snorts.

“What, use our shirts to clean up?”

Dean nods.

“Missing your glorious shower?” Sam teases.

“Hey! You love that thing,” Dean shoots back, pouting a little.

“Yeah, I do,” Sam agrees, and tips his head up to kiss him. Dean smooths Sam’s hair back as they kiss, slow and gentle to say good night.

\---

Donna pulls her hair back into a tight ponytail standing at her bedroom mirror. She can hear the muffled conversation of the girls at the table in the kitchen, the shuffle of dishes and utensils as they get a breakfast put together. She hates that she even thinks it, given the circumstances, but it’s been much too long since they were all under one roof again, except Jody, of course…

Her heart plummets before it can fill completely at having Claire and Alex home, aching with sickening worry for her best, most dearest friend. If she’s not already dead, what nightmare she’s living–

Donna gasps, sniffles, and presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, hard to fight the tears that well up.

 _Keep it together, woman!_ she chides herself, squaring her shoulders and fixing herself with a stalwart gaze. Today is a new day, and more than that – the Winchesters are here. _The frickin’ Winchesters_. She was serious when she told Dean they’d worried at first that something awful had befallen the boys, but then they convinced each other – for their own sakes, really – that no, they’d just taken a much needed break. Stuff had gotten real bad then, with God’s sister and the fate of the universe and all – it wasn’t so hard to believe Sam and Dean needed to recoup like maybe they hadn’t ever let themselves before. It was Jody who first suggested there might even be something more to their relationship, once they’d seemed to stay gone, and while Donna admits that at first, she was a little scandalized, Jody had a way of talking about them, a way of seeing it – but then, she did know them better. She’d known them longer than Donna, was much closer to them, was motherly, in her natural sort of way. It took surprisingly little for Donna to be not only convinced there was real possibility to Jody’s theory but also to realize she didn’t care if it were true. It didn’t change who they were or anything they’d done for her or all the other hundreds of people they’d helped.

And truly, nothing has changed. Now, when Donna was all out of hope and running out of lies to tell herself they’d still find her even though she had no idea how, here they are – sacrificing the safe anonymity of whatever quiet life they created for themselves to help them. Donna still doesn’t know how, but she does hope again, and a part of her believes they really might bring her home.

She takes a deep breath and holds onto that feeling, letting it lift her back up before she leaves her bedroom and makes for the kitchen. As she walks down the hallway, the voices abruptly fade to a stop, and by the time she steps into the lighted kitchen to see three pairs of eyes staring in her direction, she’s narrowing her own suspiciously.

“Good morning, girls,” she says slowly, surveying their faces. Ally looks guilty and mumbles a quiet ‘ _morning, mum_ ’ before dropping her attention back to her eggs. “Claire, Alex.”

“Morning, Donna,” they answer in unison before looking at each other sharply, as if recognizing they aren’t allaying any of Donna’s suspicions.

The air in the room is loud with everything they aren’t saying, and Donna huffs, sending a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure neither Sam nor Dean are coming down the hall behind her, then she lowers her voice while keeping it deadly serious.

“Alright, out with it,” she demands, hands on her hips. “If there’s a bee in your bonnet better let it out, ‘cause we’ve got more important things to worry about.”

The three of them look at one another, speaking without speaking, until Ally turns to her mother and sighs, resigned while obviously unhappy to be the one appointed to speak first.

“It’s just… I’m still confused. You always said – you _all_ said – they were brothers?”

Alex huffs and throws up her hands, looking away, clearly wishing they’d just dropped it altogether.

Donna purses her lips and thinks hard. She knew, realistically, this would come up, but truthfully she’d been avoiding thinking about it because she wasn’t sure how to handle it. Jody would know.

She scrambles for something to say too long because Claire, ever so forward, interrupts her thoughts.

“Did you know? Did Jody know?”

Donna sighs, and when she looks at Claire, she can tell Claire can read it in her face.

“We always wondered. They never talked about it, of course. They were brothers to us, that’s what they said. But… the way they looked at each other… I’m not surprised. Jody wouldn’t be either.”

“Okay but… what _are_ they?” Claire pushes, asking without asking if they’re brothers, too.

Donna suddenly glares at her, because this doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is what they’re capable of, and that they’re here to help. Donna has no patience for this, and her hushed, angry whisper makes it clear. “They’re together. They’re Sam and Dean Winchester, _husbands_ , and the best hunters I ever knew. They’re going to help us find Jody. That’s what I know they are, and it’s good enough for me. It better be enough for you.”

Claire puts her palms up defensively. “Hey, it’s good enough for me, too. Of course it is. I was only asking.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Alex chimes after a brief moment of quiet, and Donna doesn’t have to look to know Claire is rolling her eyes.

“Shut up, Alex. I ain’t dead yet,” she sasses back, wagging her eyebrows and bringing up her hand to mime flexing her claws.

Alex laughs, and as Ally starts in, too, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, the tension of their discussion starts to bleed away. Donna smiles, and then she hears telltale sounds from down the hall that the Winchesters are about to join them. She clears her throat and when she has all the girls’ attention, she gives a look, clearly telling them that’s enough now, and all three heads nod back at her.

Donna moves into the kitchen to clear the entrance, going for the eggs on the stove and the stack of toast right next to it. When she turns around with her full plate, Sam and Dean are standing in the doorway, Sam just behind his brother and looking just that little bit anxious. Donna’s stomach twinges in sympathy, hoping he understands quickly just how welcome they are, no matter what he might be worrying right now.

“Morning, boys,” Donna greets them cheerfully, the way she would’ve back in the day, even though they’re hardly boys anymore. They’re dressed remarkably similar to how they always did, and they look undeniably like themselves, aged but unfairly well. Despite the years or maybe because of them – perhaps Donna’s own age helps her appreciate it – but Dean is impossibly even sexier with his rugged, salt and pepper beard surrounding those incredible lips, and Sam – his beauty is almost elegant with his youthful dimples and paling hair, still soft and smooth and tucked impulsively behind his ears. _Damn their incredible genes_.

“Morning, ladies,” Dean answers, charming as ever, grinning, and just like that, they’re all smiling back at him.

“‘How’d you sleep, old man?” Claire teases, reaching over to hand them each a plate, and when Sam snorts a little, smirking, Donna is relieved.

“Hey! Can it, you little punk,” Dean growls back. “I’m not that old. Could still kick your ass.”

There’s a quirk at the corner of his mouth that betrays the threat, and as Sam and Dean join them at the table amid Ally’s laughter and Alex’s long, drawn out oh at Dean’s boasting, it feels so much like old times, Donna almost can’t believe it. She wants to be happy about it – and a part of her is – but there’s one vital thing missing.

 _Jody_.

\---

“Oh my god,” Alex says suddenly, and Sam looks up quickly from the last bites of his breakfast. Everyone else is doing the same, all eyes on Alex.

“I don’t believe it,” she continues. “We got a break.”

“What? What break?” Donna asks, hurried, while Claire jumps out of her seat to stand behind Alex and read her laptop screen over her shoulder.

“The Harrington kid – he’s dead,” Claire announces.

“Oh,” Donna grimaces.

“Where?” Sam and Dean ask at the same time, and Sam glances at his brother quickly, sharing a secret, subtle smile.

“Blackwell, Oklahoma,” Alex answers, and then she makes a face. “According to this preliminary police report, his body is in rough shape…”

The room is quiet a moment while everyone makes the mental connection to Jody, wondering if she’s in rough shape, too, but no one says it. Donna does try to stifle a cry, and Sam instinctively reaches for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He knows how he’d feel if it was Dean, and his heart hurts for her – hurts for Jody and whatever she’s going through. He doesn’t miss this part of the life.

“Well, we got a lead. It’s bad for the kid but we can hope it’ll be good for Jody, alright? Time to pack up and ship out, ladies,” Dean says confidently as he stands, shifting the mood in the room tangibly from heartsick to focused and determined. “We’ve got work to do.”

\---

Sam watches as the local M.E. leaves them, pulling the door shut on his way out. Dean is already leaning over the kid’s remains, and Sam has to admit, he doesn’t miss this part of the life either. It’s not that he’s squeamish – of course he isn’t – but before, when they were in it and it was the only way they knew, it was second nature for them to be detached – just part of the gig. It’s been twenty years since Sam had to look in the face of someone’s deceased child, and it’s not a good feeling. The boy’s face is peaceful in his death, and Sam can’t help but think his lips are pursed in a soft smile. It only makes Sam feel the sadness more acutely, so he averts his eyes and focuses on the M.E.’s notes instead.

“He looks kind of like... a mummy? I mean, not a thousand year old one, but...” Claire suggests, her eyes narrowed as she traces a gloved finger along the kid’s pale, sunken skin.

“Official cause of death is exsanguination,” Sam reads off the sheet. “Though the good doctor notes all of his organs show damage caused by extreme dehydration, as well.”

“So, he may have bled out, but it wasn’t quick,” Dean summarizes.

“Right,” Sam agrees. “They put time of death at roughly 36-42 hours but he’s been missing almost a month at this point. There are obvious signs of captivity, too. The wear at the wrists, where he was bound and...” Sam leans in to inspect the wounds more closely. “Hung, by the looks of it.”

“So… drained of blood… is this some kind of vampire?” Claire asks, but she sounds skeptical. “There aren’t any of the usual blood-sucking wounds.”

Dean makes an unconvinced sound as Sam keeps reading. “It says here there were trace amounts of botulinum toxin in his system.”

“Botulism?” Dean’s brow is furrowed.

“Wait– as in botox?” Claire asks, confused.

“The one and the same,” Sam confirms. “It can cause paralysis. You know, Dean, this feels kind of familiar. Paralyzed victim, drained of blood as if they’ve been fed on for weeks…”

“You think this is a Djinn?” Dean asks, and Sam can’t help but feel warm that they’re on the same page like twenty years has done nothing to dull them.

“Whoa, a frickin’ genie?!” Claire baulks. “You’re kidding. I’ve never come across one stateside, all my years hunting. How is that possible?”

“Well, honestly, we thought our– um, a hunter we knew helped Crowley round most of them up, including their Alpha.” Sam awkwardly clears his throat to disguise the moment he was going to refer to their grandfather.

“Right,” Dean agrees. “And then what few might’ve remained are excellent at hiding – it’s kind of what they do. They keep a really low profile, hide out in caves or ruins, other abandoned places.”

“They’d have to,” Sam carries on. “Because they’d stand out in a crowd. Djinn are usually covered in very heavy, distinct tattoos, head to toe.”

“Right, unless they find a different way to fit in,” Claire looks at them both seriously, and Sam immediately knows what she’s thinking. Of course!

“The circus!” Sam exclaims. “They would make a perfect Painted Man act. No one would even blink.”

“Well, shit,” Dean shakes his head. “Now we know it was that freak show. Let’s go tell the others, come on.”

\---

“Oh, good,” Donna chirps as Sam, Dean, and Claire step into the room all the women are sharing, right beside theirs. “Just in time for lunch. Have a seat, grab a bite.”

She’s laying out a pile of wrapped sub style sandwiches on the table and plopping down a six pack. Dean smiles and goes right for the beer, while Sam starts deciphering the chicken scratch on the wrappers to sort through what’s inside. Sam finds a Philly cheesesteak that he automatically slides in front of his brother, and Dean turns his grin on him as he hands him an open beer at the same time. Sam grabs a chicken Caesar wrap for himself and quickly pulls the cap off his beer so he can clink the bottleneck against the one his brother has stretched out towards him. Sam tries not to give Dean the smile his brother is surely looking for, smug, because just like Sam, he loves the way their little routines transcend any time and all locations.

“I almost don’t want to ask – specially not as y’all are tucking in – but how was the morgue?” Donna winces a little apologetically as Claire loudly pulls back a chair and plops down at the table, dropping her jacket on the seatback and grabbing the closest sandwich.

“Well–”

Claire is interrupted by the swinging open of the motel door. Alex and Ally walk in, and Alex is talking before taking notice of anything else going on in the room.

“It definitely has something to do with that freak show circus,” she announces as she moves towards the table, shedding her coat. “It was here. Three days ago. Already long gone.”

“But we found their flyer!” Ally offers excitedly, holding out the piece of yellow paper, a photocopy, covered in writing of large and varying fonts proclaiming all the usual stuff, like something out of history book: _Come One, Come All! One Night Only! Sheppard and Sons. Carnival! Only the Finest Freaks! Sword Swallower! Bearded Lady! Painted Man! Mystics! Be Filled with Wonder and Mystery!_

“We already confirmed it was the circus,” Claire says smugly, even though she didn’t get a chance to say so yet. Alex just gives her a side eye though Ally does deflate a little. Dean doesn’t resist rolling his eyes. They’re twenty years older, but not much has changed between these two, either.

“You did?” Donna pushes, and Dean answers before Claire can, and she closes her mouth and sits back in her chair.

“The thing that did this is supernatural. A Djinn.”

“A what?” Ally asks as she sits down next to Sam, laying the flyer on the table between them. Donna furrows her brow and Alex looks thoughtful.

“Djinn, or more commonly known on this side of the world, a genie,” Sam explains, and when Ally’s eyes get wide, Sam continues, knowing immediately what she’s about to ask. “No, they don’t grant wishes. They induce a coma-like state that puts their victim in a kind of fantasy dream world while they slowly feed on them until they die.”

The explanation of their M.O. leaves the room quiet, and when Donna clears her throat to keep talking, they know they’re all thinking about the same thing.

“How can you be so sure? We’ve never encountered a Djinn, have we?”

Alex, Ally, and Claire all shake their heads. Sam looks at his brother, trying not to think too vividly about their firsthand experience with Djinn.

“We’ve tousled with them once or twice. Dean–” Sam starts, but Dean cuts him off.

“I’ve been held by one before. It’s a trip, I’ll tell ya. But seriously, this could be good for us. For Jody,” Dean says with earnest excitement in his voice. The women all look taken aback, expressions ranging from horrified to disbelieving to confused.

“It’s not pretty to see, but the victim is actually completely unaware of what’s happening. They’re living a fantasy version of their life, and time passes differently for them, so they can live that life fully. If this thing has Jody, she’s not suffering. And more importantly, they keep their victims alive while they drain them. Just look at how long the Harrington kid was missing before he turned up,” Sam offers gently, with hope. He swears he can see the light come on in Donna’s eyes.

“Jody’s still alive,” she says, almost breathless.

“You’re damn right she is,” Dean agrees confidently.

“Okay,” Alex says, drawing it out, clearly keeping her hope in check. “I still don’t know what the Djinn has to do with the circus…?”

“Tattoos,” Claire explains. “Apparently Djinn are covered in them. They’re usually solitary and hide in more secluded places, but–”

“He’s their Painted Man!” Ally gasps. “It’s a perfect cover!”

“Exactly,” Dean wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and puts down his empty beer bottle, then grabs another. Sam shakes his head when Dean raises an eyebrow to ask if he’s ready for another.

“ _Okay_ ,” Alex says again, still drawing it out, still with obvious reservations. “So we know what did it, that’s great, and we confirmed what we suspected about the circus, but we’re still up shit creek. This thing is completely underground and weirdly old school. We’ve already dug into it. It doesn’t advertise or have a public schedule. It pops up randomly and does this kind of thing–” she reaches for the flyer and shakes it. “–to bring in a particular kind of crowd. How the hell are we supposed to find them?”

There’s a beat of deflated silence around the table while Sam wipes his mouth with a napkin and then balls it up inside his empty sandwich wrapper.

“Actually, Alex, I think I might have an idea about that. We have way more information than you did when you looked for them at the beginning, and I think I know how to put that to work for us. Do you have your laptop?”

Alex looks impressed and, for the first time, even a little hopeful. She nods and goes to her bag, Sam standing up to follow her.

“Alright then, let’s get looking.”

\---

Dean doesn’t realize he’s dozing until Ally’s excited squeal jolts him fully awake. He blinks rapidly to clear the fog from his eyes and clutches the empty beer bottle in his hand where it had been resting loosely against his leg.

“Oh my god,” Alex utters behind Ally’s excitement, and Sam’s proud chuckle mixes in.

“We did it,” Sam says, pleased but not so surprised, and Dean turns towards the trio from where he was lounging on the couch to where they’re huddled around Alex’s laptop at the table, case notes strewn about them.

“Did what?” Donna comes rushing in around the corner in her nightshirt. Dean remembers Sam insisting she get some rest while they worked his angle, but he doesn’t remember how long ago that was now. It doesn’t look like she’s been sleeping, anyway.

“Well, we had a bunch of pieces before, but not enough to see the bigger picture of the puzzle. The Harrington kid turning up here was a really big piece,” Sam starts.

“Sam put together an algorithm–”

“Alex, please, you did all the coding,” Sam interrupts kindly, and Alex looks appreciative, though Donna wears an expression of impatience more like what Dean is feeling.

“Well, it was your idea,” Alex answers, smiling back at him.

“Guys?!” Donna nearly shrieks, and they both jump.

“They used the FBI database to cross reference missing persons cases and the location of bodies that turn up roughly three to four weeks later in other states, using the known locations of the circus as a baseline. The algorithm was not only able to detect and match up about a dozen victims that fit the pattern in the last three years but also predict possible locations for the show’s next pop up based on a profile of the usual places it sets up!” Ally explains in such a hurry, her hands flying as she speaks, that Dean is narrowing his eyes and leaning in to listen harder while he follows along. Donna gasps and rushes the table.

“So that means…?” Dean croaks, his voice a little rough, and he clears his throat.

“It means that Sheppard and Sons will be turning up again in the next…” Sam checks the computer screen. “Three days, either in Minden, Louisiana, Oxford, Mississippi, or Jackson, Tennessee.”

He looks back at Dean from across the room, and Dean feels a familiar surge of pride for his super smart baby brother. _Attaboy, Sammy._

Donna squeals then, too, just like Ally, and leans down to gather her daughter, Alex, and Sam in a hug would be incredibly awkward if it were anyone but Donna.

Dean stands, arching his back and stretching, ignoring the usual twinge in his right knee and sighs, relaxing when his back cracks.

“Well, it sounds like we got a little time. Shut eye – all of us. We’ll pair up and hit the road in the morning after everyone’s rested up. Nothing less than our A game for Jody, alright?”

“He’s right,” Donna lets Alex and Sam go, but pulls Ally along with her. “Alex, Claire, don’t make me come back out here.”

She winks at the girls as she steers Ally towards her room. Alex looks back at her fondly because she knows that’s not really directed at her, and Claire looks dramatically scandalized by the implied accusation. Dean has to chuckle to himself as he moves towards them to collect his brother.

“C’mon, Sam,” he says, reaching for his arm, though as his fingers wrap around his brother’s wrist, he falters a little, suddenly aware of Alex and Claire watching them. He clears his throat again and lets Sam go, his hand going immediately to rub at the back of his own neck instead – an old, anxious tell. They haven’t had to talk about him and Sam with Claire and Alex as of yet, even though they must know something’s different, and frankly Dean is okay if they just don’t have to address it at all.

“G’night, guys,” Sam says gently as starts to turn away from them.

“Night,” Alex and Claire answer in unison, and Sam raises his eyebrows at Dean when the girls can no longer see his face. Dean rolls his eyes and leads Sam out of the room, instinctively putting his hand on the small of his brother’s back, and refusing to move it away when he wonders if that’s too much.

“You know you always used to do that before,” Sam says once Dean pulls their door shut behind him and they walk towards their room.

“What?” Dean digs in his pocket for their key card, Sam standing just behind him, so close Dean can feel the heat from his body.

“Touch me. All the time. Grab my arm, put your hand on my back,” Sam explains, and follows Dean inside after he gets the door open.

“What, before? You mean, when we were ‘just brothers’?” Dean raises an eyebrow at Sam and watches as his brother turns on the lamp next to their king bed. Dean closes the door and pushes the salt back in place with his toe as he turns the lock.

“Yeah. All the time,” Sam chuckles a little as he looks back at him, genuinely surprised that Dean doesn’t seem to remember. “I did say we weren’t really that subtle.”

Dean frowns at him and Sam just laughs a little more before heading into the bathroom, leaving the door open. Dean stands there a moment trying to remember, and as it does seem to be true, he huffs and kicks off his boots before joining Sam at the sink.

Dean doesn’t say anything as he starts brushing his teeth alongside his brother. Sam’s eyes are bright in the mirror watching him, and the foamy white smile his lips make around his toothbrush only make Dean try to look grumpier in response. It’s a dance they’ve done their whole lives, and they both know where it ends.

Sam leans to spit and rinse his mouth, Dean stepping back to give him the room, and then refilling the space as Sam steps behind him for the towel. Dean spits into the sink and swishes water inside his mouth, spitting it out, too, before standing back up, and Sam siddles up against his backside as he does, wrapping his arms around his waist. He kisses at the back of Dean’s neck and then leans on his shoulder, those bright eyes teasing Dean in the mirror. Dean just glares back at him in the glass, but he can tell Sam just smiles more the way his eyes crinkle.

Sam lifts Dean’s t-shirt to slip underneath it, giving his hips a quick squeeze before laying his big paws open on his stomach, his pinky fingers teasing at the edge of Dean’s jeans.

“Sam…” Dean tries to sound grouchy but his voice betrays him, and he knows the game is up, and he knows Sam knows it, too.

His brother noses up his neck to kiss at his ear, one hand sliding into Dean’s pants and wrapping around his dick, which grows against his palm more with every passing second. Dean lets himself melt against Sam’s solid body behind him, leaning his head back to Sam’s shoulder. Sam gives him a firm squeeze and few gentle tugs, drawing his name from Dean’s mouth again, this time ragged and completely given in.

“Come to bed, big brother,” Sam purrs, and Dean does not need to be convinced. He grins openly at his brother’s reflection.

“Alright, Sammy,” he rumbles back, groaning when Sam takes his hand away and gives him a swat on the ass before turning heel and leaving Dean standing in the bathroom with half a woody and a flush in his cheeks. His brother’s laughter comes from the bedroom, and Dean spins, pulling his shirts off as he stalks after him. He knows he’s just doing what Sam wants him to, but damn if he doesn’t still love taking every opportunity to show his kid brother who’s boss.

\---

“Maybe it’s just not Minden,” Dean shrugs his shoulders and drums his thumb on the steering wheel. Sam huffs and leans his head against his closed hand, looking through his window. They’re parked in a back alley lot in the sketchier part of town. Sun’s just going down after a day of searching, having doors slammed in their faces, being laughed at, and generally nothing promising.

“One outta three,” Sam sighs, nodding as he turns towards Dean. “Pretty good chances it’s not us, I guess. Have you heard from anyone else?”

Dean pulls his phone out of his pocket and has a quick look. “Nah. I mean, everybody’s in place, but no leads yet.”

Sam just keeps nodding, quiet. Dean watches his brother shift uncomfortably in the seat and tries to figure out what’s going on in that big brain.

“You worried your algorithm was wrong?” Dean finally asks. Sam lifts his eyes.

“No, I… no. I’m sure it’s right. I just don’t know what I was hoping for more, that it was Minden, or that it wasn’t.”

“Oh,” Dean blinks, and it dawns on him he’s not sure what he wanted either. On one hand, it would be nice to do the job for real, be the ones to gank the monster like old times, save Jody. On the other hand, they haven’t fought a monster in a long ass time, and Dean has gotten used to knowing Sam isn’t in danger.

“Do you think… Jody’s better off if it’s not us?” Dean pushes, and Sam’s eyes go wide.

“No, no at all! I mean– I know we’ve been out of the life a while but… it hasn’t really felt like it, has it?”

“It really hasn’t,” Dean agrees, and Sam smiles to know they feel the same.

“I almost feel like we never left. I know we’ve got the cabin waiting for us, and it’s been home for so long, but stepping into some random motel, going through lore, hacking law enforcement feeds–” Sam is talking a little excitedly and Dean has that same rush.

“Like riding a bike, Sammy,” Dean grins, and the way Sam smiles back at him is nearly blinding in the growing darkness.

There’s a moment of contented quiet between them.

“I didn’t really expect you’d have missed it, to be honest,” Dean admits. Sam looks at him thoughtfully.

“I don’t think I expected it either,” Sam shrugs a little. “But it feels good. I feel… alive. And I want to help Jody, Dean. I want to see her make it out of this, want us all to be together again. Jody was as good as family to us. I missed _her_.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighs. “Donna, too. The girls. All of it. When this is over, I don’t think we’ll have to go back into hiding. Not… if you don’t want to,” Dean says seriously, making sure to leave the ball in Sam’s court. Dean may be the boss, but Sam’s happiness is his happiness, so.

“I… don’t think I want to,” Sam smiles, and Dean does, too, and reaches for his brother’s hand to thread their fingers together in his lap. Sam lets himself be pulled closer to him, and slouches to lay his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“You know, I can’t stop thinking about all our old cases, stuff I haven’t thought about in so, so long,” Sam says after a moment. Dean chuckles.

“Me neither,” he agrees. “Like that time with the friggin’ Trickster? Slow dancing aliens, seriously.”

“Or that time when Zachariah made you poster boy for corporate America?” Sam laughs. “Those suspenders!”

“Yeah, cause you didn’t fuckin’ love it,” Dean says without missing a beat, remembering everything they got into after that particular trip. Sam nods as his laughter subsides, some colour rising in his cheeks.

“Or that time we almost got the shit kicked out of us for making out in that bar– do you remember the one? With the bikers?” Something has changed in the tone of Sam’s voice, something that makes Dean’s blood get a little warmer, but Dean does remember the time, and he snorts.

“Almost got the shit kicked– Sam. We would’ve left those homophobic assholes cryin’ for their mamas,” Dean argues, and Sam laughs.

“Yeah, I know. I just meant– we did some risky shit back then,” Sam sounds nostalgic when he says it, and the warmth in Dean’s veins flares hot as he flips through relevant memories.

“Hell yeah, we did,” Dean shifts a little under the weight of his brother leaning on him, the car’s vinyl seat creaking. “If this car could talk…”

Dean whistles, long and low because _damn_ , if she could talk, _well_. People would have to pay and be over the age of 18 just to hear. Dean’s proud of how clean he keeps the her, considering everything that’s happened in here. Not to mention against, on top of–

Sam unlaces their fingers and reaches for Dean’s zipper, effectively bringing Dean’s reminiscing to a screeching halt.

“Sam…” Dean huffs out, breathier than he meant it to be.

“‘‘Member when we used to do this all the time?” Sam whispers, glancing at Dean with a look in his eye that makes Dean bite his own lip, hard, before he shifts back and leans down, getting his head in Dean’s lap.

“Sam–” Dean chokes as his brother pulls him out, looking around frantically at their back alley hideout. _Okay, okay. Sun’s down, it’s pretty deserted around here_ – “Oh, fuck.”

Dean slams a hand down on the steering wheel as his brother takes him all the way into his mouth without any preamble. He’s not all the way hard but all the blood in his body redirects there to remedy that so quickly he feels a little lightheaded. He steadies himself with a tight grip on the wheel and with the other hand he reaches for his brother’s head, pushing the hair back from his face and using it as an additional anchor.

Sam doesn’t tease. He finds a rhythm and sets into it, bobbing up and down on his brother’s cock, letting it hit the back of his throat and force tears from the corners of his eyes. Dean’s instinct is to throw his head back and get completely lost in the feeling, but Sam looks fucking amazing doing this on a regular day, not to mention with the backdrop of their current surroundings. Dean makes himself watch, carefully keeping his hand on Sam’s head to make sure he doesn’t hit the steering wheel as he moves up and down in the cramped space.

Dean may not be a teenager anymore, but between the hot, sucking pull of his brother’s mouth and his insatiable fetish – Sam’s words, not his – for the car, it doesn’t take much. It does take all of Dean’s will power not to buck up into the trap of Sam’s mouth, and he can’t help how his fingers tighten in Sam’s hair as he gets close. Sam whines at the tug, and the vibration from the sound sends Dean over the edge. He shudders under Sam, shooting into his mouth, and he whimpers when he feels Sam’s throat working, swallowing him down.

After Dean is done, a boneless heap on the seat, Sam lets his softening dick slip from his lips, and he takes a few deep breaths as he tucks Dean back into his underwear.

“Christ, Sam,” Dean pants. “C’mere.”

Dean bring him up, a hand cupping his chin, and he sighs into his brother’s mouth when he kisses him, tasting himself on Sam’s tongue. The kiss is languid and deep, unhurried, but Dean knows there’s still a fire in Sam’s blood, his dick a straining bulge behind the zipper of his jeans, and the small whine Sam lets out against his Dean’s lips pleads for him to do something about it. Dean smiles, pulling back just enough that Sam knows he was teasing him on purpose, waiting for Sam to beg him with that pretty sound. He slips an arm between them, and Sam lifts his hips to give him better access. He gasps when Dean presses against him, shuddering at the relief his brother’s hand offers, and Dean only grins all the more, nipping at Sam’s bottom lip.

“‘Atta boy, Sammy,” Dean breathes as he fiddles with Sam’s fly. Sam whimpers in answer to Dean’s praise, a call and response so hardwired between them Dean knows it gets his brother wet, makes his own spent cock twitch. Dean gets the zipper down but doesn’t have plans to take Sam out, just slips his fingers inside. Sam always gets close when he sucks Dean off and Dean knows it; the thick heft of his brother stretching his mouth, the musky scent of him in his nose, and the bitter taste of him on his tongue– it goes both ways.

“Oh, kiddo, love how wet you get for me,” Dean purrs, pleased, as he wraps his hand around Sam as best he can given their position. It’s not going to take much.

Dean finds a quick rhythm right away, doesn’t drag it out, and Sam’s whole body gets tight as Dean speeds him toward his release. He drops his forehead to Dean’s, and his grip on his brother’s shoulders tightens, too. His breath comes in broken gasps, shaky.

“Dean, please,” he stutters, desperate, just to get Dean talking again.

“Yeah, I got ya,” Dean noses along his ear, kissing him gently, in contrast to the furious, choppy back-and-forth of his arm. “So close, aren’t ya, Sammy, Come on, now. Come for me, baby brother.”

Sam does then as if on cue, grunting and shaking against him.

“ _Yeah_ , that’s it,” Dean works him through it, slowing his hand.

As it subsides, Sam eases back down onto the seat, taking a big breath and shaking his hair out his face. Dean grins at him and uses his clean hand to tuck a strand behind Sam’s ear before leaning in for a quick kiss.

He takes his other hand back gingerly, trying not to ruin the front of Sam’s pants as he does, and opens the glovebox to dig for a napkin.

“Just like old times, huh?” He wags his eyebrows at Sam while he wipes off his hand, and Sam huffs out a laugh. “Fuck, that was good. You’re so good to me, Sammy.”

Sam laughs harder at that.

“You’re so easy, Dean,” Sam teases, and Dean grins, knows he’s not wrong.

Sam does up his pants, shifting a little uncomfortably for the mess inside his pants and sighing. “Don’t miss this part.”

Dean, having just zipped himself up as well, shrugs.

“Was totally worth it though, right?” Dean puts on a cocky grin, but there’s a tiny part of them at worries Sam would rather have not, he just does it for Dean. Of course, Sam sees right through him. He looks at him like he’s an idiot before leaning in to kiss Dean, hard.

“Hell yeah,” Sam says against Dean’s lips before pulling away, and can’t help but beam back at him, the little nagging doubt silenced.

There’s a quick beat of quiet before Dean’s stomach growls audibly and Sam laughs again, rolling his eyes.

“I’m starving,” Dean says as it hits him all at once, and he puts a hand on his gut and looks at Sam with a deliberately dramatic desperation.

“Yeah, alright,” Sam gives in easily with a chuckle. “I can get cleaned up, too. How about that pizza place around the corner? It looked promising.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Dean grins excitedly, already pushing open his door. “That place smelled like a win. C’mon.”

\---

“Well, you were not wrong,” Sam acquiesces as they walk back to the car, rubbing his stomach contentedly.

“Damn right,” Dean announces proudly. “It’s always those hole in the walls. Little mom and pop places. Not about anything but the food. So friggin’ good.”

Dean has a bounce in his step of a well-fed, well-fucked man, and Sam can’t help but be lifted by his brother’s mood, despite the fact they still haven’t heard anything promising from the rest of their team.

“Holy shit. Is that what I think it is?” Dean rounds the corner to the alley where the Impala is still parked and takes off at a jog.

“What?” Sam calls after him, lengthening his stride to catch up.

“I don’t believe it,” Dean reaches across the windshield and holds up an orange piece of paper. “One night only, Sammy!”

“Holy shit,” Sam echoes, disbelieving. He takes the flyer when Dean holds it out to him, and he leans on the Impala’s roof with with his elbows as he reads the details. The show is just outside town, not on a main road, and it starts at 10pm.

“Get in the car, Sasquatch. I’ll drive, you text Donna,” Dean barks as he lowers himself into the driver’s seat.

“Dean– there’s no way they’re going to get here before it starts,” Sam joins him inside the car, reaching for his phone in his pocket.

“I know,” Dean is serious as he starts up the engine. “We’re on our own. But they’re gonna want to get here anyway.”

Sam nods gravely, understanding. For Jody.

\---

Dean isn’t sure what he was expecting, but when they find the place, there’s no mistaking it. There are cars parked haphazardly along the side of the road for a good quarter mile, and the field is filled with more that aren’t afraid to take it off road. Dean doesn’t like to think about the terrain and his baby’s undercarriage, but he takes her wide and around back. He can only imagine the state they’ll find Jody in, and he’s willing to bet they may need to make a quick exit. He’s not keen to have to run it back to their getaway car.

The tent is a great deal smaller than any circus Dean can remember seeing in his youth, and it certainly lacks colour, instead a dreary, dirty once-white. Out front there are stalls more like what he would have expected, and the growing crowd is being funnelled toward the main tent that way. They’re not close enough as they drive towards the back to get a good look at any of the attractions, though Sam does swat him in the arm for craning his neck to see.

When they get past where the first cars parked closest to the tent, Dean shuts off the headlights and slows down, the engine’s rumble low and hopefully not too noticeable given the noise of the crowd just the other side of the big top. The show’s crew area comes into view, and there are a dozen or more trailers, scattered closely together. From where they are still a couple hundred yards away, Dean can make out the occasional silhouette of a person between the RVs.

Dean eases the car as close to the treeline as seems necessary, and then they climb out and go for the trunk. Standing there in the dark, the stars above and their weapon cache in front of them, Dean is transported to their old life, their youth, and the countless hunts before. In this moment, he can’t believe they ever really left it.

“Dean?” Sam asks, quiet, always so aware. Dean lets out a breath and turns to him with a big smile that he knows is inappropriate given the circumstances, but he just can’t put away. Sam’s eyes are bright and understanding as he nods back at him.

Dean reaches for the silver blades and the jar of lamb’s blood. Sam doesn’t say anything else, just unscrews the lid and takes one of the blades Dean has between his fingers. They dip them in and wipe the excess off on the edge of the jar. The blades don’t have to be dripping for this to work.

“Ready, Sammy?” Dean wags his eyebrows as he puts the lamb’s blood back in the trunk.

“C’mon,” Sam rolls his eyes and takes point, leaving Dean to ease the trunk closed and follow behind.

“How are we gonna find her in all these trailers without getting caught?” Dean whispers as they approach the cluster of RVs.

“Maybe we won’t have to search all of them,” Sam suggests, noting the way the closest trailer is faded, but painted with the act it houses – _Buck and Wanda’s Dangerous Russian Daggers._

“Huh,” Dean thinks that sounds like it might be interesting, giving the painting of the burly-looking dude and beautiful, eye-patch wearing woman a more deliberate look, and Sam scoffs.

“ _Dean_ ,” he hisses, and Dean knows it’s not just a simple chide to keep him focused. He tightens his grip on his blade and stays low despite the irritating twinge in his knee as he catches up to Sam where he’s pressed against the wall of Buck and Wanda’s trailer.

“Look. There,” Sam nods with his head, and Dean leans over him to see what he means. In the next row of trailers, second from the end, is one covered in markings that Dean couldn’t forget if he tried.

“It’s like someone wrapped that trailer in a steamrolled Djinn,” Dean says with disgust, and Sam wrinkles his nose at the idea.

They look both ways down the line of RVs before going for the door. They each press flat against the wall on either side of it, and Sam raises an eyebrow. _What next? Me, you?_

Dean nods at him to go ahead, and holds his blade at the ready. _You knock, I stab_.

Sam wraps his knuckles on the door lightly, trying not to catch the attention of anyone besides who might be inside. They wait, and no one answers. Dean shrugs, and goes for the handle. Sam brings his blade up in one hand and his flashlight in the other. Dean silently counts them down, mouthing the words. _One, two, three_ –

He pulls open the door and Sam steps up into the trailer. As soon as he moves in, Dean joins him, pulling the door shut. The trailer is empty.

“What…?” Dean glares as he brings up his flashlight, too. No one is in the trailer, and there’s absolutely nothing remarkable about it in any way.

“If this Painted Man is a Djinn, they really have taken this blending in to heart,” Sam whispers.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. “Apart from the whole draining people dry thing.”

Sam looks over his shoulder at him, unamused. _Obviously_.

Dean watches as Sam goes for the closet at the far end of the trailer. His brother opens the door, and they’re both expecting Jody, but there’s nothing, just a few hangers holding clothes.

“Goddammit,” Dean curses. “So much for finding her easy. C’mon.”

Dean turns and heads for the door of the trailer, Sam right behind him. He opens it, and starts– he’s standing face-to-face with the Djinn, covered in thick, tribal tattoos and piercings, visible because he’s wearing little more than a speedo. For a moment, no one moves, surprised, but then the Djinn’s eyes flash blue and he grabs the front of Dean’s shirt, yanking him hard and pulling him out of the trailer.

Dean is caught so off-guard, he tries to twist around to grab at the Djinn, get a hold of something – anything – but the guy is just that much quicker, spinning away from him, and Dean narrowly avoids faceplanting in the mud. His shoulder takes the brunt of his fall, and though the wind his knocked from him, Dean keeps his grip on the blade in his hand and starts to roll onto his back, away from the Djinn. He’s not fast enough, and the Djinn is on him, slamming his heel hard into the back of Dean’s bad knee.

Dean cries out, frozen for the pain, and then the pressure is gone. There’s a scuffle and Dean rolls onto his back and looks over through squinted eyes in time to see his brother pin the Djinn to the wall of his trailer and swiftly drive his blade into his gut. The Djinn’s eyes flicker blue as he looks into Sam’s face, and then they go out. Sam drops him as as he goes limp, crumpling to the ground.

“Dean!” He rushes towards him, and Dean can only groan. “You alright?”

“My fuckin’ knee,” Dean sucks in a sharp breath as he tries to move his leg.

“Shit,” Sam is worried, his brow furrowed deeply as he runs his hands over Dean, helps him to sit up against the trailer. “We still gotta find Jody. I don’t even know where to look next. I should get you back to the Impala.”

Dean sighs, pained, and reaches to rub at his sore shoulder, leaving his blade in the trampled grass beside the RV. “She’s gotta be in there, Sam. Look at the trailer. It’s bigger on the outside, don’t you think?”

“What?” Sam stands up and moves back to look at it more closely. “Oh. Oh! It’s gotta be– the closet! Hold on.”

Sam scrambles back inside, and Dean watches him go.

“I’ll be here,” he says to no on in particular. He’s not going anywhere fast with his knee the way it is. Dean’s heart is in his throat as he waits, hoping, and desperate. Finally, there’s a muffled sound from inside the trailer, and a moment later, Sam emerges in the open door, Jody’s arm pulled over his shoulder and her limp form against his side, her head dropped down to her chest.

“Oh, thank God,” Dean exhales in a rush, and Sam offers him a weak smile.

“She’s in rough shape, Dean. We really gotta go.”

“No shit,” Dean barks out a laugh. Sam carefully steps out of the trailer and Dean shakes his head, knowing Sam can’t exactly carry them both back to the car. He braces himself, then reaches for the side of the trailer and pushes up off the ground, keeping his weight on his good leg as much as he can.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” he hisses as he stands, hopping a little and wincing at the pain, and he takes a moment leaning against the RV to catch his breath as the piercing throb in his knee subsides.

“Dean, dammit–” Sam is at his side in the next instant, offering him something to hold on to, though his own arms are busy holding onto Jody..

“I ain’t gonna die, Sammy,” Dean reminds him, grabbing a fistful of the back of his brother’s shirt. “Though, I will admit this trek back to the car is not gonna be any fun.”

Sam looks at him apologetically. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Dean holds onto Sam tight, and they make for the Impala as quickly and as steathily as they can, leaving the dead Djinn rolled underneath his trailer for someone else to find.

\---

Sam sips at the barely palatable hospital coffee while he waits for Dean to play his next word in their game of Scrabble. Sam’s got a chance to clear his board on his next turn, and he gleefully can’t wait for the barrage of angry, all-caps text his brother will no doubt send him, and that’s if he can’t hear his brother cursing at him from down the hall. Dean had to have surgery on his knee, which he probably would have needed eventually anyway, but that Djinn didn’t do him any favours. He’s in his own room at the moment, and Sam would be with him, but he finally managed to convince Donna and the girls that they absolutely needed to take a break, go back to their motel, eat something that didn’t come from a hospital vending machine, shower, and sleep. Jody would be in good hands if she woke up. Sam would be right there the whole time.

It’s been two days and she hasn’t woken yet, but she already looks much better. It’s amazing what fluids will do. She’s hooked up to an IV, and apart from needing blood and nourishment, she’s all in one piece. Her colour started to come back with the first transfusion, and they figure now it’s a matter of waiting for the Djinn’s coma-inducing poison to leave her system.

Sam’s phone bings to tell him it’s his turn, and he opens the Scrabble app to see Dean has played the word J-A-V-A, right over the double word square where he was going to play.

_I’m sorry, Sammy. You weren’t hoping to take that spot, were you? ;)_

Sam frowns at Dean’s gloating text, but before he has a chance to decide what irritated remark to send back, there’s a quiet groan from Jody’s bed, and Sam immediately drops his phone, reaching for her hand.

Sam watches intently as Jody’s eyes blink open and find him. For a moment, she just looks at him, the smallest smile starting in her lips, and then her eyes narrow and she looks appropriately confused.

“...Sam?” She asks, her voice scratchy and rough. Sam takes the cup of melting ice off her nearby table and offers it to her as he nods.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he smiles at her warmly. “Do you remember what happened to you Jody?”

Jody looks thoughtful over the edge of her plastic cup.

“I…” she sighs, looking around the room a moment before finding Sam again. “I was helping Lou look into a lost kid. It led me to a circus– well, freak show, more like. And then… I was talking to– Donna!”

“She’s alright,” Sam reassures Jody quickly, giving her hand a squeeze. “She, Ally, Claire, and Alex haven’t left your side since we brought you in. I insisted they take a break. I’m gonna be in shit now that you’ve woken up without them.”

Sam laughs, and Jody even laughs a little with him.

“What… what happened to me?”

Sam sighs. “A Djinn. Otherwise known as the resident painted man at Sheppard and Sons. They poison their victims with a paralytic, and you slipped into a kind of coma while he kept you in his trailer and fed from you. They… induce a kind of dream state, you might not have even realized anything had happened to you. He must’ve followed you home. Donna and the girls were looking for you almost three weeks before Ally took off to track us down, ask for our help. I’m sorry but the kid... he didn’t make it. It’s how we were able to find you, in the end. But the Djinn’s dead now. You’re going to be okay, Jody.”

Jody’s eyes go wide as Sam explains, and she rubs at her temple a little, like she’s trying hard to remember.

“My husband. And my son… I watched him grow up. Get married. I was a grandmother,” her eyes well up and she sniffles, her lip quivering.

“Aw, Jody…” Sam’s heart breaks. He lifts her hand and holds it to his chest. She wipes her eyes with her other hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, you know… I think… a part of me knew it wasn’t right. That something had happened. It was easy to stay with them, but it was just a dream,” she sighs, resolved, and Sam is in awe of her strength, not for the first time.

Sam knows there’s not much to say to soothe such a strange loss; he remembers only too painfully how messed up Dean was after his run-in so many years ago. He just keeps holding onto Jody’s hand in the quiet that follows.

Jody gives their hands a little shake to catch Sam’s attention and he looks up to see her smiling knowingly.

“So Dean’s with you? Is he okay?”

Sam chuckles. “Yeah. He’s in mostly one piece. He, uh, needed an emergency knee replacement after our bout with the Djinn. He’s an old man now, you know.”

Jody bursts out laughing, a combination of relief and disbelief. “Here I always thought you Winchesters were invincible.”

Sam just grins, shaking his head.

“It’s amazing to see you,” Jody says next, suddenly serious. “You look good, Sam. Like you’ve been well.”

With Jody’s warm eyes and kind smile fixed on him that way, Sam feels that familiar sense of mothering affection he always felt with her. It’s been so long since he and Dean felt loved like that by anybody else, and it’s overwhelming in the best way. Sam clears his throat and looks down.

“I gotta ask– is that why you left?” She gestures at their hands, Sam’s wedding band suddenly obvious where his hand covers hers.

Sam flusters, his cheeks immediately burning hot.

“Jody, I don’t– it’s not what you think,” he stammers.

“You sure ‘bout that?” She responds easily, her eyebrows lifted in that knowing way she always had when she saw right through him.

Sam can only stare back at her, mouth dry, a little terrified. She squeezes his hand and when she speaks next, her voice is gentle. “Dean, right?”

Sam can only nod dumbly, eyes watery, unable to fathom how the people closest to them not only knew, but don’t seem to care.

“You didn’t have to leave, but I’m glad that you did if leaving was how you got to have this.”

“Jody,” Sam’s voice cracks and he stands out of his seat to lean awkwardly over her bed, taking her into a tight hug to say all the things he can’t quite find words for.

She laughs at the force of his embrace, hugging him in return, but pats his back and when Sam eases up a little he sees that she’s wincing.

“Oh, god, right. Sorry,” he laughs wetly. Then, softly, “Thanks.”

“Thank _you_ ,” she says seriously, reaching for his hand again as he sits back down.

\---

It’s at Jody’s a week later, and Claire and Alex have already left, by the time Dean is itching to get back to the comforts of their home. The crutches have made some things a little difficult that would be easier to manage with more privacy and a bigger shower. A part of him worried Sam wouldn’t be ready to leave, but his brother still surprises him after all this time.

“Oh, good,” Sam exhales, relieved. He grabs their duffles from under the pull out couch they’ve been sharing in Jody’s guest room and put them on the bed to start packing. “I miss our bed.”

Dean laughs, looking up from him where he’s laying on the bed, sitting up against the back of the couch. “I thought you were loving this? Being with Jody and Donna again. Getting to know Ally.”

“I am. I do,” Sam agrees, already shoving their things into their bags. “But it’s a lot. And the longest we’ve been away from the cabin, and being… just us. And it’s not goodbye this time, right? Just… see you later.”

Sam beams at him when he says it, the prospect of having their friends out to their little haven in the wilderness. It makes Dean warm inside to see Sam so happy, and to know that even though they both missed the thrill of the hunt, they miss the quiet of their home, too. They talked about getting back into it a bit, but they’ve got a while before they can be too serious about it. Dean may be off his crutches in as little as five more weeks, but the doctors said it could be up to three months before his knee is working and feeling like normal.

As it is, Dean is quite content to milk it for all it’s worth, letting Sam collect his belongings and pack his bag, then carry them both out to the car while he makes his way out on his crutches. Jody is sending them home with armfuls of Tupperware filled with homemade goodness, just like she always did, and with the threat of invasion if the boys don’t keep in touch. _We know where you live now, thanks to Ally,_ she’d said.

“Need some help, Dean?” Donna offers as he approaches the front door. Her smile is nothing like the one they saw when they first arrived, tampered with grief and worry for her best friend, and Dean swears she looks ten years younger now that Jody’s back.

“Nah, I got it. Thanks, Donna,” Dean answers as she holds the door open for him. She, Jody, and Ally follow him out.

Sam is just slamming the trunk shut as Dean hobbles his way towards the car.

“I don’t think I can ever tell you thanks enough,” Jody says as they stand together by the Impala.

“We’ve got an awful lot to be thankful for, too,” Sam offers, and Dean nods, agreeing.

“Besides, if it wasn’t for Ally here, who knows,” Dean grins at her, winking, and Donna gives her girl a squeeze.

“Seriously, thank you,” Ally throws herself at Sam, standing up on tip-toe to hug him, then shifts focus to Dean, hugging him carefully while he keeps his weight on the crutches.

“Thank you _so much_ ,” she whispers in his ear, and Dean gives her a quick kiss on the cheek as she pulls back.

They take turns hugging Jody and Donna, then Dean feeds his crutches into the backseat through the open window, and Sam steps up to this side to help him hobble into the passenger side.

“See you soon,” Jody waves as Sam climbs in the driver’s seat. Dean leans over him and they both smile at their friends through Sam’s open window.

“See you soon,” Sam echoes. He throws the car into reverse and pulls out of the driveway, starting the journey home, both of their old lives somehow meshed together to form something new.

As they make for the back road out of Sioux Falls, Dean reaches for Sam’s hand, holding it between them on the seat. Sam offers him a small smile, then keeps his eyes on the road. Dean watches him, his kid brother always, unfairly beautiful behind the wheel of Dean’s car, and he reads the mix of emotions on his face.

“It’ll be nice,” he says finally, trying to make sure wherever Sam’s heart is right now, it’s a good place. “To have everyone come visit. I know you’ve been dying to play a little house.”

He teases, and like clockwork, Sam’s expression shifts first to annoyed, then to fond. Dean isn’t always right about everything, but he’s usually pretty spot on when it comes to Sam.

“Did you ever think…?” Sam asks, and Dean knows what he means.

“I really didn’t,” he admits. “If I think about it too hard, I’m still not sure I believe it.”

Sam snorts, shaking his head in similar disbelief. After a moment, his face is serious again, and Dean gives his hand a squeeze.

“Do you think… if we, back then? I mean, do you… regret that we left?”

Dean studies his brother’s face, which is stoically masked, intentionally, not to give anything away – Sam’s trying to get the honest truth out of him, not the truth he thinks Dean would give to save his feelings, afraid that they’re two seperate things. Dean sighs, dramatic, because he knows how this is going to sound but there’s not really another way to fairly allay his brother’s fears.

“I could never regret a lifetime with you, Sam.”

Sam turns to look at him, as if he could honestly be shocked by such a revelation. He knows better, Dean knows he does. But Sam’s face says everything Dean knew it would, and he lets Sam have it before rolling his eyes and pulling his brother’s hand up to his mouth, kissing the back of it.

Sam laughs the way Dean knows he does to keep from being a pile of mush next to him. Dean gives him a hard time, but he wouldn’t change his brother – or the life they’ve led – for anything in the world. And now, after all this time, it seems despite everything in their otherwise cursed lives, they’re blessed enough to get the best of both.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so much for reading. Comments and kudos are love <3


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